


Polaris

by setissma



Series: Polaris (Triad Version) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Crossover, F/M, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Professors, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 87,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setissma/pseuds/setissma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione's face looked grimmer than Harry had seen it in a long time, maybe since the war. “Dark wizards… we ran those out quite a while ago. But magic has never been the safe picture the Ministry likes to paint, and one of the largest defenses against that darkness has a gaping wound next to a place that’s a siren song for things on the hunt for blood. I’d set traps, as many as you can, the sort that the wilder sorts of magic won’t have much effect on. Plants. Creatures. Make bargains, if you have to.” She paused. “Harry, I would not send my children here right now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astolat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/gifts).



> _Just before our love got lost,_   
>  _You said, "I am as constant as a northern star,"_   
>  _And I said, "Constantly in the darkness, where's that at?_   
>  _If you want me I'll be in the bar."_
> 
>  
> 
> _I remember that time you told me,_  
>  _You said, "Love is touching souls,"_  
>  _Surely you touched mine_  
>  _Because part of you pours out of me_  
>  _In these lines from time to time._
> 
> \- Joni Mitchell, "A Case of You"  
>   
>  **[Authors notes and introduction are here.](http://setissma.livejournal.com/859069.html)**  
> 

The Hogwarts contract was seventeen hand-written pages long, with numerous sub-clauses and conditions. Harry signed it almost without thinking, then nicked his finger with a dull kitchen knife and squeezed until there was enough blood to touch underneath his signature. The writing glowed brightly for a moment then faded entirely, leaving a perfectly blank sheet of parchment. A moment later, a letter appeared in front of him in a formal black envelope. There was a single, small card within, which read simply, “Welcome back, Mr. Potter,” in McGonagall’s precise, slanted cursive. A moment later, everything disappeared, replaced by a tidy list of required materials, three recommendations for tailors who would bill Hogwarts directly for formal robes, and the title of a portrait, along with a pointed recommendation that Mr. Potter familiarize himself with “Portraiture in Hogwarts: A Reference and Compilation,” copy on reserve at Flourish and Blotts.

“And to think, they say you can’t go home again,” Anathaxia said, dryly.

“Shut up,” Harry replied, absently.

“What, we’re taking this because we like the life-binding blood magic?” she taunted, flashing fangs.

Harry held out a hand, letting her climb up to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck. “We’re taking this because it’s better than the alternative,” he said, firmly, and went to find the directory to look up the first tailor’s address.

Contrary to popular opinion, the Hogwarts Express ran three times per week, although every time it pulled into a town or hamlet, Harry was reminded of the fact that “Express” only applied a few days a year. The train seemed different somehow, shabbier, with smudges on the compartment doors and chewing gum stuck underneath the seats.

“You can’t expect that level of maintenance all year,” Thaxia said, primly, and waited for Harry to open a compartment before she leapt up the footholds near the doorway to the shelving near the top of the compartment, with portholes.

It was well past dusk by the time the train pulled into the station. Harry levitated his trunks behind him, resisting the urge to heave a sigh at the lack of carriages. He _had_ taken the option of coming well ahead of the students, he reminded himself, and unwrapped his broomstick, making sure his things were in order before binding everything together and starting up the path.

It smelled like the beginnings of autumn in Scotland, the omnipresent dark smell of the forest blending with chimney smoke from Hogsmeade. The castle rose out of the fog in front of them, wrapped in the shadowy curtain of the lake. The gates swung open beneath them, larger than Harry had remembered, and he saw the wards snaking up them and along the wall, glimmering to let them through and then fading back into nothingness, or perhaps – something quiet and sleeping, the sort of power Harry knew no one would want to wake.

The front doors did not swing open so easily, but they cracked with a push, and Thaxia went bounding ahead, disappearing into the flickering candlelight.

Harry found her scolding a portrait daemon a moment later, a hound by the looks of it, and a moment later its human darted back into the frame. “Dreadfully sorry,” he said, almost taller than Harry. “We weren’t told to expect anyone tonight.”

“Oughtn’t the train schedule tell you the requisite information?” Thaxia demanded, tail going stiff. Harry bit back a sigh as he saw the hound’s hackles rise.

“She’s particular about these things,” he said, by way of apology. The steward shrugged then straightened, as if he was used to it. He consulted a book in the portrait, looking at Harry’s trunks.

“Shall we direct you to your rooms, Professor Potter, or would you prefer to dine first?”

“ _Dinner_ ,” Harry said, firmly, before Thaxia could interject. “My rooms are behind ‘The Lady in The Moonlit Garden.’”

Thaxia’s flattened ears told him that he wasn’t imagining the steward’s look of surprise, but before he could comment, the man bowed. “We shall ensure your belongings are delivered with haste. I believe the main course tonight to be roast boar.” 

“Thanks,” said Harry, watching as his trunks disappeared down a corridor, and headed toward the Great Hall.

The long tables were empty, a few being carefully polished, and the dais Harry was used to was instead a round table with plush chairs set around it. A woman was sitting at it alone, paging through a book. Her hair was pinned at the nape by her wand, and her dark green robes were perfectly tailored in the latest Diagon Alley fashion. A Siamese cat sat at her elbow, delicately grooming gravy off its whiskers. The food smelled so good that Harry was willing to risk the encounter. No one could be in a particularly bad mood with that in front of them, even a Slytherin.

“Parkinson,” he said, sliding in beside her, which was when he noticed a shimmering form next to her, a petite blonde woman he didn’t recognize covered in a cloaking charm.

“Malfoy, actually,” she said, barely glancing up. “And you needn’t bother, she’s reading the tea. If we’re unlucky, she’ll emerge before dessert, but you never know, it’s been known to take hours.”

When Parkinson looked up a second time, meeting his gaze evenly, he realized the low purr wasn’t coming from the cat at all, but from a very, very large – something or another, hidden in the black underneath the table. All he could see was a large, yellow pair of eyes.

“You’re, ah, married?” Harry managed, ignoring Thaxia’s nip to his ankle as he took a seat.

“Nothing so blasé,” Parkinson said, coolly, then looked him over. “So I suppose the rumors are true, then. You turned down Chief Auror for –“ The corner of her mouth pulled up. “Teaching Care of Magical Creatures to eleven year olds. Care to explain _that_ decision?”

“It’s complicated,” Harry muttered into his plate, which was starting to fill itself.

“I really don’t remember her being such a sanctimonious bitch in school,” Thaxia said, glaring. “In fact, I really don’t remember her at all. But then again, I suppose you’d have to be one, to marry _Malfoy_.”

The purr beneath the table took on a distinctly different tenor, sliding into a growl, and Harry was starting to wonder what on earth had possessed him not to order food in his rooms when there were footsteps on the stairs to the dais.

“There was a rather limited supply of female Weasleys,” a male voice said from the doorway. “I rather think Potter cornered the market. It’s rather tragic for Pansy that I was forced to look elsewhere, but, well, here we are.”

“Hello, darling,” Parkinson said, and Draco Malfoy leaned over the table to brush a kiss against her temple.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, then tried not to jump at the sudden, sheer size of the silent wolf padding up the steps behind him.

It had been years – years Harry had spent happily living his life with Malfoy occupying absolutely no portion of his daily life whatsoever - but somewhere along the line, Draco Malfoy had grown from a somewhat scrawny seventeen year old into a man, and his daemon… well, she nearly cleared the height of the table. She was different than he remembered in school, not a petty attack dog but a play of light and shadows, with both savagery and grace in the clear lines of her face. He’d never wondered _why a wolf_ , but somehow -

“You’re staring, Harry,” Thaxia said, irritably.

“He ought to,” Lethe said, low and smoky, voice nothing like Harry remembered, either. He nearly put a hand out to touch her enormous skull before he swallowed quickly and caught himself, reaching for the salt instead.

He’d hated Draco Malfoy, _hated_ him, but Harry had learned over the years that there were far worse things than schoolboy grudges. You couldn’t choose your parents. As a child, Draco had favored his father, but Harry could see the Black in him now, Narcissa’s cool grey eyes and Sirius’ stubborn mouth, the sharp cheek bones and pale skin that spoke of power and wealth. His hair was cut short, still blonde, but he’d grown, too. Harry’s sole consolation was that he was probably far too tall to be an adequate Seeker, these days.

“You’re _staring_ ,” Thaxia repeated, and Harry ducked his head.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

“On what,” Draco said. “The position? You’re a bit late, Potter, I’ve been here for four years. Then again, I don’t suppose the aurors pay all that much attention to anything that’s not trying to eat London.” He buttered a roll.

“Um,” Harry said. “Your marriage?”

“Oh, that,” Malfoy said. “We’re contracted. Since after the war.” 

“Engagement?” Harry tried, suddenly feeling as if he was underwater in a strange, horrifying nightmare.

“Contract,” Parkinson said, with a sigh. “You may congratulate us on our binding, Potter. I can’t suppose we ought to expect a half-blood to know these things.”

“ _Half-blood_ -“ Thaxia growled, putting her front paws on the table, and Lethe bared a single tooth, looking at her sideways. Then Harry felt his chair shoved out of the way and found himself being stared down by a large, black panther.

“It’s all right,” he said, finally, at the same moment Parkinson sighed, “Oh, _fine_ , Kit.”

“Kitcaron, Anathaxia,” Malfoy said. “I highly doubt you’ll enjoy her company, she’s a -”

“Bitch?” Thaxia supplied, still bristling.

“Fisher,” Draco finished, innocently. “Not quite the same degree of carnivore.”

The panther stared at Harry a moment longer before moving so close that he was nearly touching noses with Thaxia, who bared her teeth, fur standing on end.

There was a low rumble, and Malfoy laughed, pouring himself a cup of tea. It had been a long time since Harry had been around daemons who didn’t speak aloud. It was old magic, magic that had gone out of fashion in London long before he’d even been born, but it somehow didn’t surprise him to find it here.

“I hear you’ve gone off the deep end,” Malfoy said, while Thaxia turned, pointedly ignoring him to groom her tail. “Do try to keep any students from being savaged by hippogriffs.”

“Look,” Harry began, then realized from Lethe’s loose body language and Thaxia’s focus on her furious grooming that it probably wasn’t meant as a slight.

“I’ve no intention of tackling those until next term, at _least_ ,” he said, with a sigh. Malfoy laughed.

“She’s the one with the lofty Defense position,” he said. “I’m teaching the eleven year olds not to set off the shrieking stonecrop.” 

Harry paused, then bit back a laugh. “Herbology?” he said. “You?”

“Care of Magical Creatures?” Malfoy responded, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

“Something different,” Harry said, finally.

“More interesting than you’d think,” Malfoy responded.

Parkinson sighed. “Lovely,” she said. “If you’ve finished measuring your wands, Draco, this NEWT class proposal is rubbish, and I’ve no idea how to fix it. Her foundational charm work is abysmal. How on earth she managed an ‘Outstanding,’ I’ll never know.”

“Oh, no,” Malfoy said. “You’re not getting me anywhere near charms. Not even for your precious seventh years.”

Harry suddenly found five sets of curious eyes on him. “I assure you, you really don’t want my help.”

Parkinson literally threw her hands in the air, a gesture Harry had thought was reserved for figurative hysterical women in romance novels. “That’s the entire problem, I’ve no idea why she’s set the foundation this way,” she said. Harry finally sighed, taking a bite of potatoes. They spent the next few minutes in silence, with Parkinson sneaking the occasional glance at him.

“Give it here,” he said, and Parkinson slid the scroll across the table to him, looking smug.

“That’s odd,” he said, after a moment, then frowned, ignoring the fact that Thaxia was poaching the majority of his boar. “What’s she been reading, Thelonius Merrick?”

Parkinson snorted. “That’s the most logical explanation I’ve heard from anyone so far, but no, look at the second section, that’s straight out of –“

“Miyaki,” Harry said, suddenly a bit fascinated. “They’re utterly incompatible works, you couldn’t –“

“I don’t think she did,” Parkinson said. “At least not intentionally. I mean, if you’d just –“

“Christ, academics,” Draco interrupted, mildly. “You sound like Granger.”

“Granger’s doing quite well for herself,” Parkinson said, mildly. “I nearly owled over this.”

“Well, fortune has delivered Potter to your table instead,” Malfoy said. “I’m off to check the singed salvia, it ought to be going to flame tonight.” He took a final bite of custard. “Very practical, salvia.”

“Practicality is for gardeners and Hufflepuffs,” Parkinson said, rolling her eyes.

Draco snorted. “I might fall into the first category.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, waving a hand. “Potter, look here.”

Draco lifted a hand as he left, Lethe soft behind him, but Parkinson’s head was already bent over the scroll.

“Were you always so –“ Harry said, searching for a word. _Noticeable_ came to mind.

“No one cares about _that_ , Potter,” she said. “Do you think if she tried using cardinal principles instead of arithmancy, this might be feasible?”

“No, it’s going to come down like a ton of bricks and take out half the castle with it, you can’t ward like that,” Harry said, then considered. “But there’s an article on _Argiope stabilimentum_ in the Journal of Magical Creatures, I think last fall’s print edition, really brilliant –“

“ _Spell-weavers_ ,” Parkinson breathed, then pulled a quill out of her sleeve and started scribbling notes in the margins. “If you fed them the bound charms, then set the web as the focus….”

“It’s no use for wards, but it would be a very interesting –“

“Trap,” they said, simultaneously, and the sudden grin on Parkinson’s face made him miss Hermione fiercely.

“Can you get them?” she demanded. “The spiders, I mean.” 

Harry considered. “A few weeks, if I call in a favor. And if you want to keep them in the castle, you’d better build them the proper habitat, they’re sensitive to drafts. And there’s a bitterant spell to add to the wards, otherwise they’ll eat your wards and spin any magic they can get their hands on.”

“Yes, of course,” Parkinson said, as if he were a complete idiot, tucking a stray piece of hair back behind her face, and if Harry had been so inclined, he’d have thought he’d caught a glimmer of what Ron saw in Hermione.

“You’ve already borrowed _that_ trouble,” Thaxia said, curled between Kitcaron’s massive paws, and Harry tried not to choke on his dessert. “Let’s not go there again.”

“Not hardly,” he said, firmly.

“You’ll owl me the article?” Parkinson said, eyeing his plate as the custard appeared. “And a book on care and keeping?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Though I suppose you could just stop by the cottage, once I’ve cleared it out. My books will be along on the train with the students.”

She glanced at him, a little strangely. “I don’t suppose you’ve sat down with McGonagall yet, have you?”

“Not as such,” Harry said. “I, er –“ He glanced at his plate. “Gather I was something of a last minute hire.”

“I don’t think anyone thought you’d consent to the job,” Parkinson said, looking as if she was trying to stifle a laugh. “Hogwarts isn’t quite the same these days.”

“What?” Harry said. She swiped his custard, standing up and stepping aside as her daemon rose to his feet.

“No point in spoiling the surprise,” she said. “Ta, Potter. I’ll look forward to the spiders. And don’t mind her.“ She gestured to the woman that Harry had all but forgotten about. “Lisse. Divination. Doesn’t get out much.”

“She’s a bit odd, for a Slytherin,” Thaxia remarked, from under the table. “I didn’t hate her.”

“My God,” Harry said, dryly. “An entire Slytherin you don’t despise? We’ll have to owl Hermione straight away, there might be something wrong with us.”

“ _I_ wasn’t thinking about her -“ Thaxia began, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“’I’ve already borrowed that trouble,’” he mimicked. “We’re not seventeen.”

Thaxia jumped for his shoulders. “She took your dessert.”

“I’m sure the elves will send another portion your way.”

Something like two hours later, Harry was very certain that the house elves would not be sending anything custard related to Thaxia, given that he still had no idea where he was, the Marauder’s Map and six other advanced direction finding spells had left them somewhere _up_ two staircases in what he was reasonably certain was the dungeons, and every portrait he’d asked had directed him to entirely different corners of the castle. The Fat Lady was apparently in Denmark for magical restoration, so the Gryffindor common room was being guarded by a particularly recalcitrant sailor, and Slytherin’s had a very scantily clad woman with a fortunately rather large cobra daemon. “You’re not a student,” she’d purred, “but I might let you in, if you ask _particularly_ nicely.” Harry had found another hallway in a hurry.

“Really, the book didn’t give _any_ instructions?” Thaxia asked, snippily, for what had to be the thirtieth time.

“McGonagall said she had more papers for me when we met,” Harry gritted out. “Perhaps she’s gone for the evening. Or, I don’t know, _uninterested_.”

“It can’t be invisible.”

“With our luck, it only appears during the waxing crescent moon on irregular Tuesdays,” Harry said, with a sigh.

“I’d ask what an irregular Tuesday is, but I’m fairly certain I don’t want to know,” a familiar voice said, and Malfoy rounded the corner, holding an enormous planter of – well. Fire. When Harry looked more closely, he realized they were flowers, and that at least a few of them were starting to sputter out.

“Singed salvia?” he hazarded.

“As if it would be something else,” Malfoy said. “Though the burning belladona is due to come in next week. You wouldn’t confuse _those_ two, though.”

“What are you doing in the dungeon corridor?” Lethe said to Thaxia, polite enough that Thaxia didn’t even start in, creeping closer until the wolf bent to touch noses, somewhat to Harry’s surprise.

“My rooms are behind a portrait that I’m fairly certain doesn’t exist,” Harry said, with a sigh. “And _yes_ , I checked the book the Headmistress recommended.”

“Well, that was useless, it doesn’t have any maps, you’ll have wanted Burbot’s second edition,” Malfoy said, dryly. “Granger ought to have told you.”

“Hermione doesn’t know we’re here,” Thaxia said, still standing on her toes.

Harry rubbed his forehead. “I don’t suppose you know anything about a moonlit garden.”

“Really?” Malfoy said, and Harry was about to tell him that it was none of his business when he continued, “They’ve put you _there_?”

“Intriguing,” Lethe murmured, bending her head even further. “Would you like a ride?”

Harry blinked as Thaxia only hesitated for a moment before jumping between her shoulder blades.

“I’ve no idea,” Harry admitted, “but all I’d like is a bath and a bed, and at this rate, we’re going to have to sleep in the hospital wing.”

“I’m going there once these burn out,” Malfoy said, “but I suspect you’d rather your own rooms.”

“Please,” Harry said, still trying not to look askance at his daemon, whose front paws were propped on Lethe’s enormous head.

Malfoy lead him down a corridor and over, down at least three more sets of staircases, and took a torch out of a wall socket, lighting others as he went down the hall. “There’s a magical dead zone,” he explained. “Nothing works here. This is a rather old part of the castle. Built back when Slytherin thought the others might turn on him, I suppose.”

“Slytherin?” Harry said, dubiously, and Malfoy laughed.

“He had rather a lot of chambers, so don't worry, I don’t expect you’ll be sleeping in his bed.”

“Exploring Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets,” Thaxia said, cheerful for once, and Harry sighed as Malfoy bit down on a barking laugh.

“Really?” he said. “I’ve never much gotten the impression you had a sense of humor.”

“ _Anathaxia_ ,” Harry said, before she could even start, but she only licked one paw, eyeing him. He supposed the two of them were used to screaming insults at one another.

“I was only going to say, you’ve barely any impression of me at all these days, don’t you think?”

“I suppose burying the hatchet after this long would be a bit anticlimactic,” Malfoy mused. “Potter?” 

“We did work well as mortal enemies,” Harry replied, then paused, a little uncomfortable with the levity. “Though given the war –“

“They’ll want proof,” Lethe said, flatly, as they continued further down.

“Yes, well, in due course.”

“Draco,” she murmured, eyes suddenly flashing gold in the reflection of the fire flowers. “Remember what your father said.” 

Draco paused, long enough that Harry was tempted to interject that any and all relationships could be determined in the morning, so long as his bed didn’t contain any Dark Wizards, but Draco finally set the box down, crouching, and unbuttoned his cuff, jerking his sleeve up. “I never took the mark, Potter, and I suspect you’ll find that intolerance isn’t particularly savored under this particular Headmistress.” 

“If that’s a glamor, it’s a very good one, if there’s no magic here,” Thaxia said, inching closer down Lethe’s head, and Lethe huffed a sigh.

“Clever tree fox,” she said, almost as if she approved, and Malfoy gritted his teeth, pulling out a scalpel. 

“That really isn’t –“ Harry began, but Malfoy nicked the base of his thumb, rubbing blood over his inner forearm. He held his arm up in the torchlight, and what Harry initially mistook for a snake, he recognized a moment later as a vine, flowers opening sleepily and tilting toward the light. The tattoo was made up of perfect, tiny sigils and old calligraphy, a script older than Harry (or, he suspected, even Hermione) would have been able to read, so dense they looked like pure ink. The vine was black, but the flowers drew in the blood, turning a deep, dark red in the light.

“Blood and magical light,” Draco said. “Though don’t think _Lumos_ will cut it. Are you satisfied?”

Harry realized after a moment that the remark was directed not at him, but at Lethe.

“Perhaps the binding,” Lethe said.

“ _That_ ,” Draco said, “is none of their business.”

“What is it?” Harry said, finally. “Ah… the tattoo.”

Draco’s laugh was almost surprised, then he shook his head. “Look before you leap, the unofficial Gryffindor motto,” he said. “It means that I belong here.”

“No, I mean, I recognize the flower but I can’t remember what it’s called,” Harry said, awkwardly. He really wasn’t sure about any Slytherin tattoos.

“Blood lantern,” Draco said. “We’re still between moon cycles, but when it’s new, the petals pull together and float.” He cleared his throat. “It smells like – oh, I don’t know.”

“Everything you’ve ever wanted,” Lethe said. “All the things you’ve never imagined you wanted, but you want. Ambition. Desire. The corners of his mind I’ll never step into.”

“She thinks she’s a poet,” Malfoy said. “It smells like musk. And it’s toxic as hell, so don’t go eating any if you find it, which you won’t, because it only grows one place in the forest, and I’m not telling.”

“Oh,” Thaxia said, suddenly, and leapt to bite Harry hard on the thumb.

“ _Ow_ ,” he said.

“Your arm,” she said. 

“What, am I proving I’m not marked?” Harry said, irritably. “I rather think the scar covers it.”

“Your _arm_ ,” she said, baring her teeth, and he swiped his thumb quickly, before she could bite again. 

Harry had never been particularly fond of tattoos, especially not magical ones that wandered about, and so it was a surprise to see a glimmer of _something_ in the shadows, until he held his arm down to the light of the flowers. It was a bird, wings spreading across his forearms, with perfect, exquisitely _written_ feathers, and as a drip of blood slid further downward, it twisted, flaring briefly before it burst into flame. 

“A phoenix,” Lethe remarked. “Rather fitting.”

“That’s not mine,” Harry said, finally. “I didn’t –“

“Oh, but you did,” Draco said. “You signed in blood, didn’t you? You’re hers, now. After the war, McGonagall stopped appointing professors and started putting all the candidates in the Sorting Hat.” He considered. “She said once that sometimes things came back that she wasn’t expecting. I don’t suppose you were on the applicant list.”

“No,” Harry said, slowly.

“Like I said,” Draco said. “You’re hers. You belong to the castle.”

Harry swallowed, and Thaxia snorted. “I suppose they’re thematic,” she said. “What’s the female Malfoy’s?”

“You can ask if she’s interested in showing it,” Draco said. “But don’t bank on it. I’ve only seen it once.”

“I will,” Thaxia said, before Harry could stop her, and leapt into the darkness down the corridor.

“Parkinson said things were different,” Harry said, finally. “D’you know what she meant?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes, and I’d be lying if I said no,” Malfoy replied. “But it’s late, and you’ll see at least some of what I think she means in the morning.”

Harry felt the familiar tug that meant Thaxia was drawing close to the end of their range and followed it, finding her examining a large portrait of closed water lilies and irises.

“Where’s –“ he began, and then caught a glimpse of razor sharp teeth and scales, fins camouflaged in the stems.

“She’s very beautiful under the full moon,” Draco said, mildly. “She’s quite good at singing the Gryffindor sailor away from his post.”

“A siren,” Harry said, fascinated.

“Not particularly ladylike, most of the month,” Draco said. “It’s a rather misleading title, if you ask me.”

“No, she’s beautiful,” Harry said, letting go of the strange feeling at exploring a part of Hogwarts he’d never seen before, following around _Draco Malfoy_.

“You’ll be able to cast in your chambers,” Draco said. “If you double back this corridor, we’re on the right. Look for the centaur.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” Harry said, lifting his hand to the portrait, and then turned, wondering whether what he was about to say was a terrible idea. “Pax, I suppose?” 

Malfoy’s face changed for a moment, and Harry could see Lethe there when he laughed. “Now that you’ve seen my distinct lack of Dark Mark?”

“Now that you’ve failed to murder me in the dungeons,” Harry said, dryly. “On multiple occasions.”

“Pax, then,” Malfoy said. “Though you might want to get inside quickly. I might change my mind.”

Harry had always suspected the Slytherins would be hiding the best quarters in the castle, and while he had no idea why McGonagall had chosen to put him _here_ of all places, he had to admit that his suspicions had been correct. As soon as he and Thaxia had stepped across the threshold, the rooms had begun rearranging themselves. Titles blinked in and out on the bookshelves, and what had previously been a series of rather large benches turned into a twisting tree with perches to surround the picture window, pitch black with the occasional dull flash of fae light. Harry realized they had to be far beneath the lake. A fire lit itself in the hearth as the woodened floors warmed to a dark reddish oak, and the bed looked like the most comfortable thing Harry had seen in years. His trunks had been unpacked in a deep closet and onto an overly large desk beneath the window, his personal books stacked primly on the nightstand.

“Custard!” exclaimed Thaxia, at the exact moment Harry realized he heard running water and felt steam, and if he had to be in the dungeons – well, the dungeons and Slytherins alike seemed more welcoming than expected.

The next morning, he was half way through a plate piled high with eggs and sausage, when a note appeared next to his plate.

“Ah, the summons,” Thaxia said, wolfing down a sausage. Harry could hardly argue with her wording, since McGonagall had requested his presence in her office “at his earliest convenience.”

Harry finished his cup of tea and headed toward the headmaster’s office, only to find himself tugged in a different direction, up an adjacent stairwell. The door was the same, of course, but Harry could have sworn Dumbledore’s office had been at least two flights down. And the portrait, of course, was subject to the selection of the current Headmistress. Harry found himself being stared down at by a woman astride a horse, balancing an enormous falcon on her forearm.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what the password is,” he said, apologetically.

“Not to worry, we’ve been expecting you,” she said. “And for this week, it’s ‘golden snidget,’ though don’t think that’s on your account.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry said, with a smile. She swung open to reveal a flight of stairs.

McGonagall’s office was nothing like Dumbledore’s, with the possible exception of thousands of books lining the walls. Where Dumbledore had liked trinkets, McGonagall’s tasted seemed spartan in comparison, though it was clear that the furniture was perfectly crafted and the mantle above the large fireplace was lined with photographs – one, Harry was surprised to notice, was of him, Ron and Hermione, laughing over a deck of cards in the Gryffindor common room. There was another of a young couple on their wedding day, probably younger than he was now, and he was startled to realize the smiling bride was McGonagall.

“Mister Potter,” she said, interrupting him, and he turned, a bit embarrassed, but she waved a hand.

“I suppose you would be curious, after all these years.”

“Please, call me Harry, Professor,” he said. Thaxia was noticeably quiet; McGonagall had always been one of the very few people she was willing to hold her tongue around, perhaps because McGonagall’s lynx was not known for being particularly verbose. 

“Only if you’ll call me Minerva, Mister Potter,” she said, and Harry had to crack a smile.

“I suppose the terms are a bit different than a decade ago,” he said, watching a pot of tea pour itself. McGonagall’s face grew contemplative.

“A little,” she agreed. “Though I’m afraid I must admit to luring you here under somewhat false pretenses, Harry.”

“I’m reasonably certain the job offer was real,” Harry said, dryly. “I’ve got a rather impressive tattoo to prove it.” 

McGonagall looked a bit startled, then laughed. “I thought you’d take some convincing on the subject of Dr. Malfoy, but perhaps I underestimated you.”

“Doctor?” Harry said, puzzled.

“Yes, her doctoral defense was certainly worth the trip to London,” McGonagall mused. “Granger was always the brightest witch of your time here, but some of us take a bit longer to come into our own. Pansy has certainly demonstrated that much.”

“Oh, no,” Harry said. “It was Draco, actually,” he said. “Well. More like Draco’s daemon.”

“Sometimes it bears repeating that they are one and the same, Harry,” McGonagall said, sounding amused. “I must admit to some sorrow at having been away last night, if Draco Malfoy was educating you on the particulars of the castle. Though I do hope that blood wasn’t drawn in a duel of some sort. I don’t tolerate that sort of animosity amongst my professors. We haven’t the time for it, and no one is here whom the castle has not chosen herself.”

“I think perhaps we’ve agreed to let bygones be bygones,” Harry said. “The war was a long time ago.”

“A decade at most,” McGonagall said. “But sometimes youthful perspectives aren’t entirely without merit. Tea? Still two sugars?”

Harry took the cup that floated across the room. “Somewhat false pretenses?”

“An answer for an answer,” McGonagall said, drawing a cover off of what Harry had thought might be a bird cage – it proved to be a large glass dome with seven or eight red envelopes floating around inside. “Would you care to explain why Ms. Granger-Weasley has been sending you howlers since approximately twelve o’clock yesterday?”

“Oh, fuck,” Harry said, then covered his mouth with his hand.

“Watch your language,” hissed Thaxia, appearing on one wing of the chair, glancing around the office as if McGonagall’s hidden daemon might appear.

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m afraid Hermione doesn’t know where I am.” 

“That would explain the addressing,” she said. “Harry Potter, Hogwarts Express, Two Kilometers North of Hampshire,” she read. “Harry Potter, One Hundred and Seventeenth Southwest Corridor, Nearest the Statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry –“ McGonagall paused as another letter appeared with a pop, crashing against the glass before falling back with the others. “Harry Potter, Headmistress’ Office, Northernmost Turret. They do get rather specific.”

“I’m wearing an anti-tracking device,” Harry said, pulling out a small bead on a chain around his neck. He laughed, without much humor. “She invented the thing, so her tracking charms can’t find a way around it.”

“Clever, if deceitful,” McGonagall said. “Though one wonders at the necessity.”

“You’ve been to London,” Harry said, finally, quietly. “Nothing’s the same, since the war. Most of the Death Eaters got taken out in the first few years, but I think there’s a nostalgia for something that’s never going to exist again. Voldemort left more behind than just a body count. I know –“ He held up a hand. “You went through it. My parents went through it. But I’m not sure it’s the same this time. And my job – well, my former job… there’s an awful lot of darkness in the world, Professor. When I was a child, it was easy enough to boil it down to one source, this unspeakable evil, but then you grow up and find out that the every day acts of ordinary witches and wizards might be worse.” He closed his eyes. “We went on a case, oh – a month ago – a witch and her children hacked to pieces in their beds, though he could have used a wand, made it fast.” He laughed, bitterly. “Do you know what the worst part is? Because they weren’t killed with Unforgiveables, it’s not Azkaban. He’ll be eligible for parole someday. Because he used a _butcher’s knife_ , and there weren’t any Muggleborn jurors.”

McGonagall’s lips became a thin line, one Harry recognized as resolve. “And Ms. Granger-Weasley?”

“Hermione sees me as the beacon of light I was to many people for many years,” Harry said, finally. “’I’ve been trying to explain that that particular darkness is long gone and that people have turned to other comforts, but she won’t have it. And I very much needed a change of scenery.”

“Well,” McGonagall said. “I’m afraid you’ve come to a place that’s unlikely to give you much rest.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m well aware of the horrors of first years. I suspect I’ll survive.”

McGonagall smiled, though it was faint. “Not that, though kindly refrain from setting them loose with anything too dangerous,” she said. “What do you know of magical architecture, Harry?”

“Just about nothing,” he admitted. “Though I’ve found my fair share of strange staircases that lead to the wrong house and cubbyholes that don’t seem to have bottoms.”

“Correct,” McGonagall said. “Some wizards, when building, like to… incorporate tricks. A sleight of hand here, a slip of magic there – your home becomes something different. It’s usually not a particularly dangerous pastime, but magic wasn’t always so neat and tidy.” McGonagall waved a hand, and a chalice appeared on her desk, glimmering behind what Harry recognized as a stasis spell. It was gold plated, with jewels the size of coins inset around the rim. He sighed.

“This is going to involve destroying a magical object, isn’t it,” he said. 

McGonagall laughed. “Quite the contrary, Harry,” she said. “This is a magical object that must never be destroyed. Only the Headmasters and Mistresses may view it, though even we will never know the location of what you’re looking at. This is Hogwarts.”

“It’s a cup,” Harry said, flatly. “A very fancy cup, but it’s still a cup.”

“A cup full of blood,” McGonagall corrected, and Harry stood to glance over the edge, trying not to gag. It was indeed filled with a dark liquid, dull and lifeless against the shimmering gems. He didn’t find it hard to believe.

“A long time ago, Salazar Slytherin thought he had built something,” McGonagall said. “He thought he had created the most magical castle in the world, a place of rock and iron, perhaps an impenetrable fortress, but the truth that he was blind to was that he hadn’t built something. He’d planted it.”

“He’d planted it,” Harry echoed, numbly, wondering slightly if McGonagall had gone off the deep end in his absence and that had been what Malfoy was warning him about, but she pushed her glasses up her nose and pinned him to the chair with her gaze.

“He planted it,” McGonagall repeated. “Hufflepuff realized, of course, and Ravenclaw came to know in the end, though I suspect her metaphorical perspective was a bit different. The point is, the castle is alive, and it has been since the first stone was drawn from the ground, because Slytherin’s magic went into the making of the thing, and as I suspect we have learned these last long years, it is very difficult to make something so large and requiring so much power without giving something of yourself.”

“So Hogwarts is a horcrux?” Harry said, flatly. “My day just keeps improving, Professor.”

“You might think of it that way,” McGonagall said. “But you must understand, it’s not a horcrux in the sense that you’ve known them. Hogwarts isn’t borrowing pieces of anyone’s soul. It’s constructed solely on magic. And our magic is a reflection of ourselves. At first, it was unbalanced, and then, through Ravenclaw’s insistence, became balanced once more. This chalice is a power source, the four founders putting themselves equally into the school. In the beginning, you might think of each brick as divided into quarters, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff never thought to limit their spell. Or perhaps they never meant to. One can only speculate.

“Hogwarts has become an amalgamation of the magic of every witch and wizard who has ever passed through her doors. And their mistake, or choice, became their grace, the making of her, because with so many personalities, so many types of magic with different strengths and weaknesses, she fell into harmony. Of course, sometimes a particularly strong wizard might cast a ripple in the pond, but the lake has always been smooth.”

“But,” Harry said, slowly.

“But, ten years ago, Hogwarts was severely wounded,” McGonagall said. “And although the towers have largely been rebuilt and the dead no longer line the Quidditch pitch, in the wrong parts of the castle, stone is merely stone. And the damage was hardly even. The dungeons were nearly untouched, while Ravenclaw Tower was nearly obliterated. It has left an imbalance. She can only grow so quickly, Harry, and there is only so much magic you can pull from children, particularly when the children are fewer and fewer in number each year. Most of us have forgotten the old ways, the pagan spells of blood and death and the places in the world where you might find untold power. We are not what we once were, Harry. None of us are a Salazar Slytherin or a Rowena Ravenclaw. Even at his finest, Albus Dumbledore only held so much. The castle has been fighting a very good fight, but she tires. And in her exhaustion, Potter, I am afraid things are going to get much worse before they get any better at all.”

“None of this explains why I’m here,” Harry said, finally, and McGonagall smiled.

“The dark creeps in, but it is hardly hopeless,” she said. “I suspect you may find horrors here, but I also suspect you will find what it is that you have been looking for. Professor Malfoy knows some of the oldest, purest magic there is, and he’s a far stronger wizard than anyone – perhaps myself included – ever gave him credit for, though his skills lie outside the realm of what many would consider traditional magic. Dr. Malfoy shares a bloodline, however distant, with Rowena Ravenclaw. And you –“

McGonagall smiled. “Hogwarts was not left entirely defenseless, Potter. The Sorting Hat is more than just a silly game for children. It knows what she needs. And though I didn’t believe that you would say yes, when I put in the applicants for this position, it returned your name alone. Singularly and exclusively qualified. You were a ripple in her power, Harry, and Slytherin needs balancing.”

“You do realize I was almost sorted there,” Harry said, flatly. 

“No,” McGonagall said. “Although that provides an interesting twist. Perhaps Hogwarts needs a magnet, to draw Gryffindor and Slytherin together. Or perhaps the choosing of a House means more when it’s challenging.” She shrugged. “We have far too few faculty and far too many students without even the fundamentals that growing up in a wizarding household would have afforded them. Hogwarts has kept the danger out, so far, but I fear that if we do not restore the balance, she will start to crumble. We must –“ She laughed. “As Mr. Malfoy suggested, build trellises to bridge the gaps and coax her along.”

“Christ,” Harry said. “You sound more like Dumbledore than you.”

“Headmistress’ prerogative,” McGonagall said, with a smile. “It’s good to see you home again, Harry. Now might I suggest you owl Miss Granger with your sincerest apologies. We’ll be needing her. You may tell her it was urgent and that I requested you not notify others of your plans, if you wish.” She frowned at the case. “And please do request that she stop filling my office with howlers.”

“Right,” Harry said, feeling a little relieved that McGonagall sounded much less like Trelawney. “And my class tables? And the keys to the cottage?”

“You aren’t the groundskeeper, Harry, you won’t need keys,” McGonagall said, then winced. “The cottage, however… Hogwarts has always kept the Forbidden Forest in check. But she is distracted. I suspect you would not want to teach courses there these days. But never fear, the Professors Malfoy and myself have created a wing off the greenhouse that I suspect shall be to your liking.”

“A decade, and you’ve managed to turn up two Slytherins and me, when you need fewer Slytherins and more Ravenclaws, or whichever?”

“I rarely find that arguing with the Hat offers much success, Potter,” she said. “Now come along, you’ll need to be shown the restored Potions wing. As we’re currently without an advanced instructor, yourself and Professor Malfoy will be teaching the sixth and seventh years NEWT courses.”

“Potions?” Harry managed. “I’m _awful_ at Potions.”

“Luckily for you, Mister Malfoy is quite adept,” McGonagall said. “Come along, Professor Potter. There’s work to be seen to.”

“That was interesting,” Thaxia said, when she’d heard the portrait door swing open, and Harry jumped when McGonagall’s lynx leapt from a deep shelf above her desk, landing silently on the bannister.

“Always the penchant for understatement, Anathaxia,” he said, and started down the stairs after his other half.

After lunch, Harry went to find Malfoy. It was extremely pathetic, he thought, when he was hoping that an afternoon spent with Malfoy might prove better than his morning, but seeing as how his morning had involved all _that_ with McGonagall and a horrifying trip down memory lane in the Potions dungeon, Harry thought there might be a small possibility that this _couldn’t_ be worse, even if it involved Malfoy. Malfoy had been perfectly reasonable, last night, when he wasn’t flashing about scalpels.

“It’s going to be awful,” Thaxia said, and Harry sighed.

“Most likely,” he said, but paused when he reached the greenhouses. They weren’t anything like he remembered, though he supposed there might have been more advanced buildings for the upper level students, but this was different, somehow. There was a low, stone building tucked against the castle wall, covered in ivy, and next to it a door through the wall. It looked like a perfectly charming iron gate, but when Harry glanced at it askew his eyes nearly watered with the sheer number of protective wards crawling over it. It was placed in the thickest section of the wall, a part of the wall itself, and Harry realized abruptly that he could see a path into the Forbidden Forest over the top of the gate, which was right over the wall.

The greenhouses themselves had grown together somehow, almost like a spider web, connected by tunnels, and they’d grown old, with lead paned glass and moss covering the foundations. The largest one, with stained glass and soaring roof peaks, looked nearly like a cathedral. Harry paused for a moment to offer grudging admiration to the beauty of the layout. If this was the house that Malfoy had built, Harry wasn’t quite sure what it said about him, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he disliked it.

“Awful,” Thaxia repeated, with a put-upon sigh. Harry firmly jerked open one of the wooden doors to the smallest of the green houses and heaved a sigh of relief. This was recognizable, at least, with the long benches and perfectly paired gloves, though Malfoy kept things in much better shape than Professor Sprout apparently had. Each spot at the bench had a pot full of soil, a trowel, and a small cup of seeds. “Introduction to Herbology,” was written in cursive across the blackboard, with a number of rules beneath it. Harry very carefully didn’t touch anything and went through the passage to the next greenhouse, which was a larger version of the first, though the tables were smaller and there were far more gardening implements. Harry paused at a pair of shears that looked as if they might take a man’s leg off, then moved on to a third classroom, with benches for two. He felt the faint brush of a cleaning charm as he stepped through the door, and realized that his boots were suddenly spotless and any dust he’d picked up along the way was long gone. The first few rooms had had innocuous plants around, garden herbs even Harry could recognize and things like Johnny Jump Ups that had a tendency to move pots, but this room was barren with slate floors. Even the benches were granite and metal instead of wood. 

The next several buildings were full of plants, most of which Harry didn’t recognize, though the faint rustle and sway of leaves was comforting. He finally came to the door to the cathedral, for back of a better term. The door was some sort of stone crossed with iron, with runes carved into the metal, but there wasn’t a window. Harry sighed.

“Maybe he’s not here,” Thaxia said, a little doubtfully.

“The map says he is,” Harry replied. “And it’s not as if I can come up with lesson plans without him.”

Harry pushed open the door, ignoring a sudden rush of magic, and suddenly found his hand pinned to the flat surface by a bright red tendril. He stared in vague horror as large black spikes began to appear, dripping with clear liquid, and the vine started to wind its way up around his forearm.

“Malfoy,” he said, in as even a tone as possible given the circumstances. “I really hope you’re in here.”

“Potter?” he heard, then, in an equally level voice, “Please, _please_ , for the love of all that is good and intelligent in this world, tell me you did not just try to walk into my level seven greenhouse.”

“Technically, I’m not inside,” Harry pointed out.

“Hold on,” Malfoy said, sounding a little strangled, and Harry heard a low hiss. It wasn’t a spell he knew, but the plant responded as if it had been slapped, recoiling and whipping back through the crack in the doorway.

Malfoy pulled the door open, glaring. “Firstly,” he said. “That was thirty seconds from killing you and eating your bones for the minerals. Secondly, she’s going to sulk for the next month, and I needed that venom for a potion. Thirdly, what on earth possessed you?”

“I don’t know, it’s not as if you have a warning sign up,” Harry snapped. “’Lethal plants within, stay out, Potter.’” 

“You didn’t notice the four thousand wards?” Draco demanded. “How on earth did you even get in here?”

“I walked?” Harry snapped. “The front door was open.”

“The only open door was to the _first year classroom_ ,” Malfoy said. “Even you can’t do much damage with succulent trimmings and creeping catmint seeds.” 

“They were all open,” Harry insisted, and Malfoy made a strangled noise.

“What on earth are you _carrying_?” he said. Harry turned out his pockets, feeling significantly more like a scolded schoolchild who was about to have points taken away from Gryffindor than a colleague.

“I will bite you,” Thaxia informed Malfoy. “It will hurt.”

“It will hurt a lot less than _dying_ ,” Malfoy snapped, and then cast several spells at Harry in quick succession, mouth going flatter. “Lethe!”

“Stop being melodramatic,” she said. “He’s a Potter. Half of his blood is older than yours. You can’t make perfectly good things out of earth and plants and not have at least a little talent in your blood.”

“I’m not being _melodramatic_ ,” Draco said.

“Well, see if it eats him,” Lethe suggested. “He really oughtn’t have made it past greenhouse five, you know, there’s an entire bed of alluring asphodel in there.”

“I’m perfectly aware,” Malfoy said. 

“I’m not entirely sure how I feel about getting eaten,” Harry said, warily.

“Shut up,” said Malfoy and Thaxia, at the same moment, and that was enough to startle him into compliance.

Draco pushed the door open a crack, pitching his voice inside. “Firstly,” he said, “this is my guest, and anyone who so much as stings him will be on the receiving end of a freezing curse so nasty you’ll wish you’d gone to seed while you had the chance. Secondly, it is not _entirely_ his fault he is stupid and knows next to nothing about you, so try not to take it personally when he falls face first into you or trips over your roots. The first rule still applies.”

If there was a tone to the rustling, Harry might almost have described it as _sulking_ , but when Draco pushed open the door fully, he caught his breath, because it really was a cathedral, the sort of thing only a Malfoy would build. It was wild but beautiful, with a draping canopy of trees and every plant imaginable, from low beds of thyme to horrific looking vines looped across the low branches of a tree that Harry recognized from a muggle book as being – well, particularly lethal. 

“Oh,” he said, staring. There was a very tentative curl at his wrist, and he turned his hand, examining it. It had never occurred to him before that plants might be, well, _alive_.

“Hello,” he said, politely, and this time the vine didn’t put out any spines, merely exploring his sleeve cuff, then creeping up his arm. By all rights, Harry ought to have found it threatening, but it was oddly curious.

“I’m sorry I opened your door and got you in trouble,” he said, because it seemed like the right thing to say, and the plant… huffed and then resettled, her leaves turning from bright red to a dull purple. Harry tentatively reached his other hand up to let a tendril wind around it. “You seem… very lovely. Excellent at guarding things. Doors. You know.”

“Are you seriously trying to charm a leeching liana with _flattery_ , Potter?” Malfoy said, sounding highly amused. The plant flushed red again, whipping a tendril around at him. If Harry hadn’t known better, he’d have said she was glaring.

“No, no, by all means,” Malfoy said, sounding as if he was about to start choking with laughter, or possibly as if he wanted to strangle himself. “Let him admire you. He’s very famous, you know.”

The plant settled again and caressed his cheek. “I don’t suppose you’d let me talk to Malfoy if I promised to come visit,” Harry tried, tentatively. “I’ve no idea what you like, but if I can, I’ll bring some.”

“Human skeletons,” Draco said, mildly.

“Er,” Harry said. “I’m sure the house elves might give me some beef bones. They’d at least be a snack, I suppose.”

The plant seemed to consider, then settled back in its position draped across the doorway, drawing its tendrils back.

“Potter, you are a marvel,” Malfoy said, with a sigh. “Marvelously stupid, really, but then – oh, _don’t_ ,” he continued, as several plants suddenly crowded in around Harry. “He’s not going to spoil you. You know I won’t let him.”

“I hadn’t thought, ah,” Harry said, suddenly well aware that they weren’t somewhere so private, after all. “I suppose missing advanced herbology has left me a bit unaware.”

“It probably wouldn’t have done you much good, to be honest,” Malfoy said, rummaging in a crate for a spade and passing it over. “This is considered a bit too advanced for even seventh years. Here. You can help me transplant the vines-of-steel-and-binding.” 

“Those sound charming, I’m sure,” Harry said, then paused. “Very charming. Lovely plants. I look forward to meeting them.”

Draco snorted. “If they didn’t understand sarcasm, I’d probably be dead by now. Though you ought to be. It’s generally not a particularly good idea to go wandering through the greenhouses alone. Or without me, frankly. The things here –“ He paused. “Let’s just say that I won’t go rummaging through your workroom if you don’t go rummaging through mine.”

“You might put locks on,” Harry repeated.

Draco laughed. “Potter, there are hundreds of them. Do you think I want fifth years looking for a good spot to snog getting eaten by something? But the plants let you through. Pansy will have some sort of field day with it.”

“Your magic smells different than most people’s,” Lethe said. “Like wild things. Growing things. You’ve never had to work at it, with magical creatures, have you?”

“I rather thought it was a side effect of the parseltongue,” Harry admitted, a bit awkwardly.

“Oh,” Draco said, brightening suddenly. “I’ve got a bed of sansiveria that needs scolding. Perhaps it would respond to that.”

Harry saw the glint of a large pond, turning the corner of the path, and sat on the edge, carefully reaching to stroke a lilypad. “Don’t tell the ekwensu I’m here,” he said, dryly. “I’d rather not get bitten again.”

“Thank god, there’s nothing in there but the plants,” Draco said. “And they’re harmless. Useless, they won’t produce the tubers I need, but harmless. What in on earth is an ekwensu?”

“An African water demon,” Harry said. “Well, not literally a demon, they’re in the same family as grindylows. Less nasty, they’re largely vegetarians, but they’re a commensal species with most of the African lilies.“ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “They farm them. The tubers. I mean, not literal farming, they’re not advanced enough for that, but they cache them like squirrels do nuts.”

“Interesting,” Draco said. “Could, if one so desired, procure –“

Harry laughed. “I’m already ordering spiders for Parkinson. All right. They’re sentient, so there are stricter protocols, but I rather imagine you might get at least a few families who would be very willing to live in here, particularly if you offered them fish. They’re utterly terrible at fishing, no skill whatsoever, but they scavenge them sometimes.”

“Done,” Draco said.

“Speaking of Potions,” Harry said, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “I talked to McGonagall.”

“Exclusively about Potions?” Draco said.

“And the whole part where she’s starting to sound like Dumbledore and Hogwarts is a horcrux and there was a very strange chalice of _blood_ ,” Harry muttered. “What is it with me and magical objects?”

“I rather thought you were fond of Dumbledore,” Draco said, neutrally. “Jolly old chap. Fond of giving away sweets to small children. That sort of thing.” 

“I mean, he did save the wizarding world,” Harry said.

Harry jumped at a low growl from Lethe. 

“Oh, please,” Draco said. “You saved the wizarding world. Granger saved the wizarding world. Weasley saved the wizarding world. Half our class at Hogwarts and a large number of very respectable witches and wizards saved the wizarding world. But Dumbledore?” he snorted. “He let _eleven_ year olds take risks I’m not sure I’d take in my late twenties. And he didn’t gain their consent.”

“Well,” Harry said, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Come on,” Draco said. “Lupin’s son – your godson, isn’t it? My nephew. He’ll be starting next year. He’s ten. See him every Christmas, don’t you? I visit sometimes. He’s into, oh, I don’t know, trains and dragons and Quidditch and turning his hair purple to annoy Aunt Andromeda.”

“Yes,” Harry said. Draco had surprised a laugh out of him. “Though last time it was convincing Melinoe to turn into an elephant in the dining room.”

“He’ll be eleven next spring,” Draco said. “Eleven. How would you feel if I’d sent him into a dungeon after Voldemort? If… I don’t know, he had to fight a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets next year? If I just kept doing that, over and over, to a _child_?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, quietly. “I’d never thought of it that way.”

“Monsters can be well-intentioned,” Draco said, with venom. “That doesn’t make them anything other than what they are.” 

“And your parents?” Harry said, quietly. “Forcing you to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Putting that on your head?”

Draco paused, putting a hand on Lethe. “It doesn’t make them anything other than what they are,” he repeated. “I don’t speak to them much, these days.” He laughed, hollow. “In fact, Pansy – I suppose I could have gotten significantly better revenge, but tying the family fortune up with a witch whose pedigree only goes back four generations on her mother’s side?” His smile was cold. “ _Scandalous._ ”

“Do you love her?” Harry said, suddenly. “Parkin – Pansy, I mean. Not that politics is the worst reason to get married.”

“Spoken like a Gryffindor. And we’re not married, we’re contracted,” Draco said, again, as if Harry understood, then considered. “Very much. But just because you love someone doesn’t mean you can’t be useful to one another.”

“Spoken like a Slytherin. She’s very –“ Harry said.

“She makes him miss Hermione,” Thaxia said, suddenly, dashing out of a flowerbed, pursued by seedlings. “I may require assistance.”

“I’m not giving it to you if you spill all my secrets,” Harry said, then scooped her up. 

“I’ll give it, I’ve been looking for those,” Malfoy said, bending down to scoop them up. “She’s not Granger, Potter, but you might find you like her all the same.”

“I’d better,” Harry said, darkly. “I’m supposed to be saving Hogwarts or the wizarding world or god knows what else. _Again_.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic,” Malfoy said. He tucked the plants into an empty bed alongside the pond. “Stay put. You’re worse than last year’s duckling weed.”

“You didn’t see the chalice,” Harry said, glumly. “It was very –“

“Gauche?” Draco replied. “Yes, I’ve seen the chalice.” He brushed off his hands. “Potter, the castle’s wards are failing. Things that oughtn’t be able to come in are coming calling. Very few people are smart enough to understand. Those who understand don’t necessarily want to end up knee deep in sewer muck seeding new wards.

“McGonagall is very firm about only involving those who ought to be involved, because Dumbledore thought himself above asking the castle what it needed and ended up knee deep in blood, which I can assure you is significantly worse than sewer muck. It’s not the end of the world and it’s not the end of Hogwarts, the castle will find its way. But it might find its way in a direction no one’s particularly keen on, and that would be problematic, now wouldn’t it?” 

“She could have just said that much,” Harry said. “Minus the knee deep in blood bit.”

Draco bared his teeth in a smile that looked far more feral than civilized. “I hope you realize you’ll be expected to learn blood magic,” he said.

“I hope _you_ realize I once blew up the entire Potions classroom” Harry replied. “No, wait, I believe that was on multiple occasions.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I rather thought that was Snape trying to sabotage you. You know, Slytherin snubbed for Gryffindor prick, offspring proves horrifically offensive, that sort of thing.” 

“The blood magic’s probably going to be the easy part,” Harry said, dryly. “And you’re not chopping up any parts that aren’t freely offered or discarded from my creatures.”

“Just so long as there aren’t any goddamned skrewts,” Draco said, and Harry laughed.

“God, Hagrid really was awful,” he mused.

“Good lord, Merlin’s turning over in his tomb, a Gryffindor has admitted Hagrid was a less than proficient professor,” Draco said. Harry snorted.

“I was thinking of starting with sphinxes for the second years,” he said, keeping a straight face. Draco paled, then sighed.

“You’ve quite honestly the worst sense of humor, Potter,” he said.

“I’ll probably start with luduan,” Harry mused. “The inability to tell lies in eleven year olds is much less disastrous than when they’re all sixteen and idiots. The older ones can get the shang-yang and their uses in agriculture, though I’ll have to figure out how to keep it from raining for a week in the castle. McGonagall says I’ve got a shed, but they’re moody.”

“A _shed_?” Draco said, incredulously.

“Somewhere around here,” Harry said, with a sigh. “She said it was near the greenhouses.”

“A shed,” Draco muttered. “As if Pansy and Martingale would have constructed you a _shed_.” He paused. “I helped, but I wasn’t certain what you’d be importing, so the habitats are rather generic. You’ll have to ask for more specific plants.”

“Habitats,” Harry said, dubiously. “In my shed.” 

“It’s not –“ Draco said, then slapped a vine that was creeping toward his head and waved a hand to open a set of glass doors. 

“Anathaxia,” he said, gesturing in front of him. “Potter.”

“I suppose it might be a nice shed,” Thaxia said, since apparently she seemed inclined to like _Malfoy_. Harry followed after.

They walked through a woven arch of birch trees, faces peeking out from amongst the branches, and Harry stopped dead when they fully rounded the corner. The buildings in front of him were no less magnificent than the greenhouse, just larger. 

“Right now it’s divided by species type,” Draco said. “But there’s a setting to switch the habitats around – geographically, you know, and there’s one for nocturnal creatures, if you’d like. And an aquarium, though we haven’t filled it.

“McGonagall said there have always been issues with importation, and Pansy was going on and on about a conservation aspect, and to be honest, I’ve built you an entire enclosure just for a boomslang because our Potions stores have nearly run to the ground. It probably won’t be big enough for anything humanoid, but Pansy said that –“

“Shut up,” Harry said.

“What?” Malfoy said, frowning. “It’s state of the art. Modeled after the Jersey Zoological – something or another, Pansy says it’s very good for a Muggle institution.”

“Malfoy, shut _up_ ,” Harry said, opening the first door, and it was every habitat a reptile could ever dream of, down to the tiny flowers scattered in a perfectly random pattern across the sand behind the glass. Harry couldn’t remember what they were called – geodesic something or anothers, but he had to press a hand to the back of his neck.

“If it’s not to your standards,” Malfoy started, sounding put off, and then Lethe leaned heavily against his side.

“He’s grateful, you moron,” Thaxia said, hopping up onto Lethe’s shoulders to see down into a pit underneath a bridge that was clearly meant to be filled with water. “Leave him be, he doesn’t know how to say it.”

“Oh,” Malfoy said, finally.

“Shut up, Thaxia,” Harry said, but there wasn’t any real sting to it, because she was right.

“Thank you,” he said, finally. “It’s quite a bit nicer than a shed.”

Thaxia sighed. “It’s exquisite and he’s overwhelmed with gratitude,” she translated. “We thought we’d have to be shipping things back and forth to the continent constantly.”

“Boomslangs aren’t particularly territorial,” Harry said, just to interrupt her. “I suppose three or four might make for better success at nesting. And, anyway, the younger ones shed quite often if you feed them enough rats.”

“Perfect,” Draco said. “Show yourself around, all the buildings are keyed to you.” He laughed. “Though I might suggest checking Pansy’s wards. ‘If’ clauses aren’t her strong suit.”

“Thank you,” Harry repeated, and Draco lifted a hand, already on his way back up the path.

“I’d say I’m speechless, but I’m never speechless,” Thaxia said, grooming her tail. “The Slytherins give good presents.”

“We probably ought to stop referring to them as ‘the Slytherins,’” Harry said.

“Like ‘the Malfoys’ is much better.”

“That contracted thing,” Harry said. “Any idea?”

“Ask Hermione,” Thaxia suggested, and Harry groaned.

“I suppose I ought to owl.”

“Quite possibly,” Thaxia said.

“But not about that,” Harry said, firmly. Thaxia sighed.

The next two weeks passed in a blur. Harry couldn’t say he was the happiest he’d ever been, but life was – good. He thumbed through catalogues and put in orders for things he thought he’d never have been able to dream of keeping, and after quite a bit of floo negotiation, he found a witch doctor in Kinshasa who had two families of ekwensu who were willing to relocate in exchange for a regular supply of tinned sardines, which they’d apparently quite grown to like. He met most of the other professors as they arrived, nearly all of whom were at least twice his age. Malfoy passed him notes as they had tea, including comments such as, “excellent duelist, but more narcissistic than Gilderoy Lockhart,” and, “prefers tea leaves to people.” They were all, with the exception of the divination professor, solid to a fault, stoic and firm and – 

“Not _exciting_ ,” Parkinson said, when he sat down in the professor’s lounge after dinner, pouring himself a tumbler of firewhisky.

“You need a foundation to build on before you start trying to make repairs, Pansy,” Draco said, and she made a face at him.

“Someday they’ll hire Granger and Penelope Clearwater and I’ll be amongst better company,” she said, and Harry nearly snorted his drink.

“Hermione?” he said. “Really?”

“Her articles on the biological origins of magic are fascinating,” she said, with a long sigh.

“I suppose I might invite her and Ron to visit,” Harry said, a bit doubtfully. Pansy Parkinson talking longingly about Hermione was akin to hell freezing over.

“No,” Draco said. “Absolutely not. We are not having a Weasley as a dinner guest.”

“Technically, Hermione and Ron are both Weasleys,” Harry pointed out.

“We are not having _that_ Weasley as a dinner guest,” Malfoy corrected.

“Says the man who’s having drinks with Harry Potter,” Pansy murmured, propping her legs up on the back of the couch. Draco slid into a large armchair.

“Potter’s not a Weasley,” Malfoy said, as if that made some sort of logical sense.

“Fine,” Pansy said. “Weasley and Potter can act like ne’er-do-well Gryffindors, you can sulk in your rooms, and Granger and I will retire to The Three Broomsticks, where we shall discuss articles and theories the likes of which you peons will never even comprehend.”

“And have lots of incredibly raunchy sex,” Draco said, dryly. “Oh, Granger, _do_ tell me more about your theory of magical luminescence – yes, there, _ooh_ -“

“You’re just jealous you’ll never be invited for a threesome,” Pansy said, primly.

“Well, this is rather awkward,” Harry said, staring into his drink.

“If she likes Weasleys, Charlie’s coming for a lecture near the end of term,” Thaxia said. She sighed, happily. “With Chrysippia. I love Chrysippia.” 

“The whole being _contracted_ thing is probably going to put paid to any infatuation with Charlie.”

“Not necessarily,” Pansy said, brightening. “Is he bringing dragons? Do you think he might let me test some of the new Hogwarts wards against dragon fire? I’m fully willing to get naked for that exchange.”

“I will fight you for him,” Thaxia informed her, grimly. “His daemon is mine.”

“Yes, he’s bringing dragons, yes, I’m sure he’ll help you test the wards, no, I don’t think it’s necessary to get naked, and Thaxia, you cannot put claim to a daemon without my… involvement,” Harry said, refilling his glass.

“She’s _beautiful_ ,” Thaxia said, with a contented sigh, and Lethe laughed.

“Should I be insulted?” she inquired. 

“She’s not serious,” Harry said, firmly, and Thaxia looked at him for a long moment, but she let it go.

“Look at Potter, ruining all your Weasley hopes and dreams,” Malfoy said, relaxing in an armchair.

“Intellectual curiosities, my love,” Pansy corrected. Kitcaron stretched and purred. 

“Bed?” he inquired.

“Why, has talking about Granger got you both all hot and bothered?” Draco said.

“Obviously,” Pansy said, stretching until her skirt slid up, revealing a long expanse of leg. “I bet Potter would be nicer to me about this entire situation.” She tugged her blouse down, and Harry swallowed. “Wouldn’t you, Potter?”

“I suppose I could owl,” he said, doubtfully, and Pansy slid out of her chair, beaming, pressing a long kiss to his cheek. He suspected she was the sort of witch who didn’t charm her lipstick to stay put and that he’d be washing it off later.

“Potter, please stop trying to seduce my wife with connections to Granger,” he said, and Pansy laughed, flushed in the firelight, and met his eyes squarely.

“Not with connections to _Granger_ ,” she said, guiding Harry’s hand to her hip. “Look, darling, he’s all red.”

“Pansy, I highly doubt Potter is going to fuck you into the couch,” Draco said, sounding significantly more amused than irritated. “Though you’re welcome to try your feminine wiles on him.”

“I, ah,” Harry managed, trying to figure out a polite way to ask her to get _off_. Pansy let go with a laugh, leaning over the back of Draco’s armchair.

“You’re right, he’s rather fun to spin up,” she said, brightly, and this time it was Draco who flushed.

“That was taken entirely out of context,” he said. “Kit’s right. Bed, before you ruin his Gryffindor reputation for good.”

“What, do you think they’d be surprised to learn the Savior of the Wizarding World likes sex?” Pansy teased. “Oh, _Harry_ , harder,” she began, pitching her voice high, and thankfully, Draco levitated her over his shoulder before Harry had to respond.

“Very manly, dragging me out of here,” she said, but she winked and waved as he carried her through the doorway, leaving Harry with a large fire and an overly full glass of alcohol.

“You know, I’ve no idea what to make of them,” he said, finally.

“You needed more friends,” Thaxia said. “Besides. No one flirts with you at Weasley family gatherings unless Percy’s date is having a horrific time. It’s very boring.”

“What, and I suppose you want me to flirt back with a married _woman_?”

“It could be interesting,” Thaxia said. “You know. Scientific curiosity.”

“I’m reasonably certain the hat nearly sorted us into Slytherin because of _you_ ,” Harry said, scooping her up, and headed back to his quarters.

The students arrived the next day, and Harry spent most of it in the dungeon with Draco, sorting ingredients and tolerating the occasional explosion of temper. “That’s wracked bladderwort, not crackling,” he yelled, and Harry paused.

“Yes, because the labels are _exquisitely_ clear and they look quite different,” he responded, holding up two glass jars with identical contents and crumpled, yellowing slips of paper inside. “Would you like to start flinging hexes at me, or are you going to tell me why you’re so unhappy to have the students back?”

“Fuck,” Draco said, sinking down against the wall. By Harry’s count, it was his sixth tantrum of the morning. “Maybe we ought to be – I don’t know. Finding plants for your habitats. Introducing creatures into your habitats. _Something_.”

“You think I’m letting you and your horrific mood anywhere near the rainbirds?” Harry said. “They’ll wreck the humidity charms with all the lightning and thunder.”

“I’m nervous,” Draco said, finally, looking up at Harry from his spot on the floor. “Last year, the Hat only sorted four Slytherins. _Four_. The castle is trying to compensate for the imbalance in the magic. If we haven’t fixed anything – if it’s not getting any better –“ 

“You and Parkinson dragged me on the roof in the rain last night to trace some sort of Hopi growth charms for vine seedlings,” Harry said, patiently. “And now they’ve covered the entire east wall. It must be doing _something_.” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” Draco said, though he appeared slightly more satisfied. “Really? The entire wall?” 

“They seem quite content,” Harry replied, dryly. “Now please tell me which of these I want before I blow up a sixth year.”

Draco stayed edgy all afternoon, though at least he stopped shouting, and he left abruptly a few hours before dinner, murmuring a spell so all the Potion stores went back to their proper places, wherever those were supposed to be. Harry, left holding an empty jar that he’d been half way through labeling, decided that protest was probably futile.

Parkinson made a face when he found her in her office, rearranging books. “Do you think seven texts is too many for the fifth years this term, or should I be asking for more essays?”

“You must be quite popular,” Harry said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Twelve inches of popular, Potter,” Parkinson said, with a smirk, pulling down a large text from the top shelf and twirling a long lock of hair around her finger. “That’s how long my first years’ essay is going to be. None of this coddling the children nonsense. Separate the wheat from the chaff and all that.”

Harry laughed. “McGonagall says you’re the most popular professor here. Horrifically long essays and all. You _do_ have to grade them, you know.”

“Oh, but I don’t,” she said, cheerfully. “I’ve set up an algorithm, you know. It evaluates everything in a completely unbiased fashion and assigns a grade. Then I look over the terrible ones and add comments. It’s a win across the board.”

Harry shook his head. “You might be awful, but I think I respect you.”

“Ta,” she said, with a grin. “You’ll learn to love me soon enough. All the boys do.”

“You needn’t flirt so,” Harry said. Kitcaron laughed from underneath Parkinson’s desk, finally climbing out.

“There’s a first,” he said, and Harry realized that he wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard him speak before. “She’s going to wither and die without your undying affection.”

“I really will,” Pansy agreed, reaching to rub underneath her daemon’s jaw.

“I came to find out, ah,” Harry said.

“He’s concerned Malfoy is going to implode the entire table if there aren’t enough Slytherins, or something,” Thaxia interrupted, creeping around a loveseat toward Kitcaron. 

“Oh, that,” Parkinson said. She straightened her robes. “We’ve been working hard for a long time, Potter. The Sorting is one of the few indicators we have of whether it’s holding or not.”

“Statistically speaking, though,” Harry started, and Pansy interrupted him with a laugh.

“I’ve a mean, median, and mode for every year since 1950,” she said. “ _Four_ is several standard deviations below the norm. And I’m Head of House. We had to combine the first and second year dormitories just to make the balance work. Though I don’t suppose you’ll be too sorry to see fewer Slytherins.”

“I might be coming around,” Harry said, finally, more serious than he’d meant it to be. “It all seems like such a long time ago, doesn’t it?”

“Sometimes,” Parkinson said. “I was very young and very frightened, and Slytherin doesn’t hold much with false courage. We care about our own.”

“So why now?” Harry mused. “Why here?”

Parkinson laughed. “Potter, Hogwarts _is_ our own. There wouldn’t be an us if it weren’t for this place. It… shows you things. Being a Slytherin doesn’t mean anything like what people think it does. Maybe you’re cunning, or you’re ambitious, but I rather think Granger’s unparalleled on those particular subjects, and maybe it’s not battlefield, Gryffindor bravery, but it takes a certain sort to stand up to your parents and tell them to go fuck themselves, I assure you.

“I suppose,” Harry said, but he was thinking about it.

“I heard a rumor,” she said, tipping her book back up and turning to look up at him, “that you asked for Gryffindor.”

“I was young,” he said, finally. “And people had said things, and I barely knew anything at all, except that Malfoy’s father had insulted my friend.” 

“’Pietas super omnia,’” Parkinson murmured, laughing softly to herself. “How ironic.”

“I’m terrible at Latin,” Harry said, dryly. “You’ll have to let me in on the joke.”

“’Loyalty above all,’” Kitcaron translated.

“The Malfoy family crest is quite horrific,” Parkinson said. “And Black’s not much better. ‘Purity Will Always Conquer?’ ‘Always Pure?’” She made a face. “We’re not those people, any more. So I had a new one made.” She pulled another book down, flipping through until she could hold out a page for Harry. “I’ll replace it when Draco takes the estate, or when an heir is born.”

It still contained the obnoxiously large M, but it was wrapped in vines and draped cloth, smoke curling around the edges. _Pietas Super Omnia_ was sketched lightly beneath.

“I once asked Draco what he thought it meant to be a Slytherin,” she said. “When the Hat made me Head of House. I thought it ought to have been him, but he said he hadn’t wanted it. But he said –“ She tilted her head, smiling fondly. “He said it was about loyalty to your own, and defending the things that mattered, by any means necessary. Ambitious and cunning and darkness, that vicious streak you’ve seen in us… those are just means to an end.”

“The irony being?”

Pansy laughed. “Loyalty is for Gryffindors,” she reminded him. “Blind loyalty to someone who’s been kind to you, no matter how little you know them, I’d call it a Gryffindor trait.” She smiled, cutting, a little too like Draco. “Unless you’d both been sorted into Slytherin, and then I’d call it house values.”

“That’s a rather fine line to cut,” Harry observed.

“If someone was falling from a great height, would you save them?” Pansy asked.

“Of course.”

“That’s the difference,” Pansy said. “I’d save them if they were mine.”

Harry considered. “And Hogwarts?”

“Is mine,” Pansy said, firmly.

“Would you let me see it?” Harry asked. “Your – mark?”

Pansy laughed. “That means I’ll be forced to save you if you’re falling off a cliff, you know.”

“I’m willing to strike that bargain,” Harry said. “I’d save you, but of course, I’d save everyone. Sorry.”

Pansy blew out most of the candles and drew down a lantern, murmuring a spell. It glowed faintly yellow, shadows passing across the surface. She drew her wand up her arm, leaving behind a faint cut that barely bled, then flicked her wrist, holding her forearm beneath the lantern light. At first, there was nothing, but then, from the shadows, a dementor, cloaked and ragged, made of blood and things that Harry could not possibly name. Fear, he thought, but a sort of fear he’d never known, despite everything. And then, a small, glowing light, first one then many, simple silhouettes growing on the blank canvas of Pansy’s skin: a panther, a wolf, a cat, a snake, and, a little to his surprise, smaller than the rest, a fisher. They bit into the cloak, ripping pieces out of the darkness, until the dementor opened its mouth in a silent scream and disappeared, leaving behind stark, bloody outlines, muzzles stained in black. They stared at him then faded, and Pansy pulled her sleeve down.

“Oh,” Harry said, and Pansy laughed again, low.

“’Pietas super omnia,’” she said, with a smile. “Have you lost your fear of monsters in the dark, Harry?”

“No,” Harry said, honestly. “But I’ve learned that there are monsters in the light, too.”

“Three is much better than two,” she said. “If you’ll help us. I’m fully aware we’re not Granger and Weasley.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “I suppose if there aren’t enough Slytherins, the ends might justify the means.”

“Oh, good,” Pansy said, laughing. “Though I ought to warn you, we’re quite terrible company. We do awful things in the dead of night quite often, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say we were usually up to no good.”

“Someday, remind me to tell you about my father,” Harry said, dryly. “Have I mentioned I own a motorbike?”

“No,” Pansy said, leaning back the desk and letting her eyes go falsely wide, biting the corner of her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “Why, Potter. I never.”

“Really,” Harry said. “A _flying_ motorbike.”

“And a leather jacket?” Pansy said, leaning back against her desk and crossing her heels, with a smirk.

“Oh, somewhere,” Harry said, flippantly. “I have several wardrobes.”

“Well,” she said. “ _That_ , you may need to show me.”

“Please tell me you’re not attempting to seduce Potter with your Head of House charms,” Draco said, from the doorway.

“That was locked,” Pansy said, feigning irritation. “I’ll have you know we were only discussing his motorbike. His _flying_ motorbike. That he’s going to show me.”

“How shall I ever compete,” Draco said, and Pansy laughed and straightened the collar of his robes, murmuring a spell to realign the buttons.

“Jealousy is unflattering, darling.”

“How about nerves?” Draco quipped, then met Harry’s gaze.

“I’m willing to help you fix the castle, but no death rituals or utterly creepy sex magic or horrific tarot readings,” Harry warned. “There are limits.”

“What about fun sex rituals?” Pansy said. “Are those off the table too?”

“If I didn’t know better –“ Draco said, mildly, and murmured something low in her ear, and Pansy threw her head back and laughed.

“After the feast,” she said.

“Right here,” Harry said, staring at the ceiling. “Very much still in the room.”

“Thank god, someone with common sense,” Kitcaron said, getting to his feet. Lethe stopped pacing, pausing to rest her muzzle against his shoulders, letting out a soft breath. 

“Stop that,” Thaxia scolded, mildly. “It’s unnerving. I’d rather you try to eat me.”

“I never tried to _eat_ you,” Lethe said.

“Says you,” Thaxia muttered, leaping onto Kitcaron’s shoulders. “I seem to recall differently.”

“Perhaps we might move on,” Kitcaron said, a little bit of a growl behind it, and Pansy laughed.

“Oh, don’t let them rile you up,” she said, pausing. “Potter, does your hair ever improve from that state?”

“No,” Harry and Draco said, simultaneously, and Pansy sighed.

“I had to ask,” she said, then set upon him with a series of spells, until Harry hardly recognized himself in the mirror above her desk.

“It _is_ formal,” she reminded him. “At least for us.”

“Those were dress robes,” Harry pointed out.

“Those were hideously unattractive and profoundly unflattering,” Pansy corrected. “Besides. You can’t wear colors to the Sorting.”

“I’m reasonably certain those were _green_ ,” Harry said. “Also, it’s not as if you’re wearing black.”

“Head of House,” Pansy reminded him. “And your newfound allegiance with the superior house will just have to go unnoticed.”

“Allegiance?” Draco murmured.

“Later,” Pansy said. “I’ll have you know my charms appear to work quite well on Gryffindors.”

“No one’s naked, they can’t work _that_ well,” Draco remarked.

“Yet,” said Pansy, cheerfully. “Come along.”

They weren’t, as Pansy had said, Ron and Hermione, but Harry found he didn’t mind being the third wheel again. Pansy flirted shamelessly all the way to the Great Hall, Kitcaron rolling his eyes most of the time, and Thaxia hopped between Lethe on the long stretches and Kitcaron on the stairs, watching them closely. Harry hung back, letting it wash over him, and for all that Hermione would probably have been giving a lecture on the Ministry’s policies for alliances with other wizarding nations, it felt familiar. _The devil you know_ , he thought, dryly, and followed them into the Great Hall.

There was a gaggle of first years in the hallway, at least a few looking rather drowned, and Harry watched them eye Pansy, then Draco with awe, whispering to one another and their daemons, and then they turned to him. It was something different, he had to admit, but these children had been so young when the war ended, not even born at its beginning, and in their small faces, he saw what Draco had meant. This was no place for battles, just a school, and when they began to whisper about them, he offered a smile.

“Hi,” he said, to one group, with a brief wave at another, and by the end of the line, they didn’t look quite so terrified. Pansy rolled her eyes and motioned at him to hurry up, and he climbed to take his seat beside Draco at the head table.

“They don’t seem like absolute hellions,” Harry remarked, filling his goblet with wine.

Draco snorted. “They never do, and they always are,” he said, nodding at a Ravenclaw prefect as Pansy turned to talk to the professor on her other side – charms, if Harry remembered correctly.

“McGonagall’s a horror,” Draco muttered. “The wine turns to juice if anyone starts getting overly enthusiastic about the proceedings. So I can’t even drink myself through this.”

“It’s a smaller class this year,” Pansy remarked. “Not really much of a surprise if you think about it, though.” She laughed. “Next year’s ought to be enormous.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m so glad we’ve now all had to think about Potter influencing population demographics,” Draco said, taking another gulp of wine.

“Is he always this uptight about sex and babies?” Thaxia said, curled on a stool next to Harry’s chair, all feigned innocence. “Oughtn’t you be producing some grandiose Malfoy heir by now or something?”

“You are _not_ improving this situation,” Harry said, sternly. 

“Later,” Pansy said, waving a hand. “I’ve other things to do, and besides that, I haven’t the time to –“

“Do not say one single, solitary thing about pregnancy or babies and work-life balance, or Hermione is likely to appear and eat you alive,” Harry said, firmly.

“Oh, right,” Pansy said. “I read in the Prophet –“

“Would you all just _shut up_?” Draco said, as Professor Martingale carried in the stool and the Hat.

“Deputy Headmaster, teaches transfiguration,” Pansy murmured.

“Pansy –“ Draco said, but Lethe carefully laid her head in his lap, and he sighed and took another drink.

The song wasn’t particularly different from what Harry remembered, though he had to admit to having attended fewer than his fair share of Sortings. The Hat did seem much bigger than he remembered.

“Abernathy, Samantha,” went to Ravenclaw, with a cheer that Harry suspected was going to get very old by the end of the evening.

Pansy and Draco both heaved an audible sigh of relief when, “Crusie, Rosalind,” went striding with clear purpose towards the Slytherin table. Harry propped his head on his hand and looked at the rest, trying to decide if it was possible to predict where they were going to go. He was wrong more often than he was right, though it was at least a bit of an entertaining game to distract him from Draco’s tension at his side, though when he was sure, he was sure, even if he didn’t know why.

“Not this one, but the next,” he murmured, and the Hat had barely touched his head before “Greengrass, Joseph,” became a Slytherin, and “Harper, Saoirse,” followed him to the table. 

“Still only three,” Draco muttered, but Pansy and Thaxia both rolled their eyes, and Harry grinned when, “Kelly, Declan,” and – with a few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors in between – “McLachlan, Catriona,” were sorted there too.

“It’s only forty, anything close to ten is good enough for government work,” Pansy said, firmly, then muffled a sigh when the Hat stalled out on, “Narrow, Timothy.”

“How often does that happen?” Harry murmured, when five minutes had passed, and Pansy shrugged. 

“Once a year, once every other year,” she said. “Either he’d like to be in a house he’s not suited for and the Hat is talking him around, or he’s genuinely a good fit for more than one. I don’t know the name.”

“Slytherin!” the Hat proclaimed, finally.

Draco took another drink of wine. “Really? We had to get that one?”

“I thought we were grateful for anything,” Harry said, laughing. “Even Slytherins who _might_ have been suitable for other houses.”

“I can’t believe Harry Potter is sitting up here cheering for Slytherins,” Pansy said.

“I’m politely clapping for everyone,” Harry corrected her. “I’m merely _counting_ Slytherins.”

“Five for Hufflepuff, nine for Ravenclaw, eight for Gryffindor, and six for us,” Pansy said. “I keep track.”

There was a relatively long drought where Harry watched Draco try not to sink into his chair, but “Patil, Lakshmi,” went to Slytherin.

“Huh,” Harry said. “I wonder if she’s –“

“They had a much older sister, she was a Ravenclaw,” Pansy said. “You really ought to keep up with these things more, Potter.”

“Swift, Alastair,” became the eighth, at which point Draco had brightened considerably, and “Wakefield, Jessamy,” was the last to be sorted, and headed to the Slytherin table to thunderous applause.

“Ravenclaw’s got twelve, but nine isn’t bad,” Pansy said, sounding relieved in spite of herself. “Hufflepuff only has seven this round.” 

“And we’ve plenty of girls,” Draco said. “Last year there was only one.”

“Mother hens,” Kitcaron commented from beneath the table. “I’m sure you’ll all meet the chicks shortly, then Pansy will be cursing their names for causing explosions and Harry will be tempted to feed them to ice lizards.”

“God, I hope it’s not that bad,” Harry said, laughing, and Draco made a face.

“There have been more muggleborns in the last few classes,” Pansy remarked. “Didn’t know not to have children, I suppose.”

“Thank you for that charming spin on the war,” Harry replied.

“I only mean, it’s a lot harder,” Pansy said. “Get used to talking portraits and moving staircases, all your work’s got to be done with a quill and you’ve likely never seen one in your life, ghosts are real and so is magic…”

“Yeah,” Harry said, finally, realizing that perhaps not every student might embrace such dramatic changes with the joy that he had.

“Three in our group,” Draco said. “You’ll ride the fifth years to keep it civil? They were the worst last year.”

“Obviously,” Pansy said, looking offended, and Harry paused.

“Really,” he said. “You really have changed. No – pureblood pride and all that nonsense.”

“If your House is on the verge of going extinct, Potter, it makes certain details seem a little less important,” Draco said.

“Loyalty,” Pansy repeated, firmly, meeting his eyes, and Harry smiled.

When Harry woke the next morning, it was to the smell of vanilla and ink and orange spice tea, a familiar combination that felt exactly like home, and when he opened his eyes, Hermione was lying on the other side of the bed.

“Morning, Harry,” she said, and Harry sat bolt upright.

“What –“ he said. “How –“ 

“McGonagall gave me special permission to floo into her office,” Hermione said, as if law-breaking exceptions were written all the time. Atticus was perched on Harry’s headboard, preening her hair, and she looked tired but happy. There was a tiny noise from inside her robes, and Harry reached out a hand when the baby grabbed for Hermione’s hair so he could wrap it around his finger instead.

“You probably should have owled, but I’m so happy to see you, I don’t care,” Harry said, reaching across the bed to crush her in a hug. 

She laughed. “Please don’t squash the three week old,” she said. “Harry, what _were_ you thinking?”

“I had to -“ he said, swallowing. “I couldn’t do it anymore. And I had to – try it on my own.”

She tilted his face up. “And you thought, if you told us that you wanted to come teach at Hogwarts, we wouldn’t support you?”

“Yes,” Harry said, with a sigh, and Thaxia crawled into his lap. “No. I don’t know.”

“Harry, we’ve been through _everything_ ,” Hermione said, her voice breaking, and Harry suddenly thought about what Pansy had said and pulled her in again, stroking her hair.

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmured. “You know me. Cupboard under the stairs. Unable and unwilling to accept love. Childhood psychological trauma.” 

Hermione laughed, brushing a hand against her cheeks. “You can only play that card so much, you know, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”

“I should have listened,” Hermione said, simply.

“About that,” Harry said. “There are a lot of things – the castle –“ 

“If no one has owled Hermione about that by now, I’m going to bite them,” Thaxia supplied, peeking into Hugo’s sling and nuzzling the tiny raven chick asleep against his chest.

“She’s all right, isn’t she?” Hermione said, a little anxiously. “Ron and everyone say she’s fine, but she’ll only take Atticus’ form or Tiphaine’s. Endymion wasn’t like that when Rose was this age.”

“She’s a baby,” Thaxia said, nuzzling the top of her head, then Hugo’s. “Babies are different. Look, bet she’ll mimic –“ she said, nudging her awake with a squeak, and then started to groom her. A few minutes later there was a tiny fluffball of a fisher in Hugo’s sling. Hermione looked noticeably relieved.

“Still learning,” Thaxia proclaimed, with a final lick to the top of her head, then jumped to nuzzle hello to Atticus, who was running his beak through Harry’s hair.

“ _You’re_ all right?” Harry said, looking at her, and Hermione smiled.

“Second time’s harder, but it’s worth it,” she said. “Though,“ she laughed. “We’re really done with two. I’ve no idea how Molly managed.”

“Sheer force of will and possibly a healthy dose of insanity, but you never heard me say that.” 

“The castle?” Hermione said, sounding intrigued, and Harry laughed.

“Like a bloodhound on a scent,” he said, fondly. “Ron’s at work?”

“Watching Rose,” Hermione said, with a smile. “I suspect they’re at the shop. He said if I was the one who couldn’t stop crying over you running off, I probably ought to be the one to fix it, and otherwise you’d come around again when you were ready.”

“Tactful, to the woman who just had his baby,” Harry said, dryly.

Hermione laughed. “Always.”

Harry heard a sudden pounding before the portrait swung open, and Pansy ran down the stairs from the foyer. “God, Potter, please tell me you’re dressed, I’ve class in half an hour and I think my boggart might not actually be a boggart, which would be a bit of an issue given that –“ 

She paused, and Hermione paused, staring at one another.

“There’s another woman in your bed, Potter,” Pansy said, looking ready to draw her wand.

“Yes,” Harry said, dryly. “And she’s all puffy because I’ve been a prick, but I rather think you might recognize her from the Chocolate Frog Card you’ve got hidden in your desk. Don’t think I didn’t know.”

“Oh God,” Pansy said, faintly. “Granger?”

“Parkinson?” Hermione said, dubiously. “What – she has a chocolate frog card?”

“Pansy, Hermione,” Harry said. “Hermione, Pansy. Thaxia, don’t you dare. Even if you like shiny black things. Atticus, this is Kitcaron. Kitcaron, Atticus. And the baby’s Hugo. Oh, Pansy’s a Malfoy these days.” 

“There’s a _baby_?” Pansy said. “Oh god. I’ve – these are my fourth best robes, Potter, and you didn’t warn me.“

“Wait, wait,” Hermione said. “Pansy _Malfoy_?”

“Yes,” Pansy said, a little anxiously. “But he and Potter seem to be getting along, and I rather thought –“

“Oh,” Hermione said, sitting up. “I read your article last month, the one on snare wards with novel consequence spells, that was bloody _brilliant_.”

“You read my article?” Pansy said, going faintly pink.

“Yes, and the one on using pain infliction spells for healing, tricking the mind into undoing the damage, I think, that was you, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not my area of expertise, I was second author, but yes,” Pansy said. “It’s really an honor –“

“You do realize we had classes together for six years,” Hermione said, dryly, and Pansy flushed again.

“I – my life was very different,” she said, primly, and Harry climbed out of bed, grateful he’d decided on pajamas the night before.

“Hermione, Pansy’s teaching Defense Against Magical Enemies,” he said. “She and Malfoy are bearable these days, I think she might actually be able to talk magical physics with you.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Hermione said, as if Christmas had come early. “Really?”

“Yes, of course, but which branch?” Pansy said. “Because the theoretical underpinning –“

“Pansy,” Harry said. “Hermione is going to McGonagall’s office to – I don’t know, get shown that bloody chalice. I don’t care what the Hat says about it. And I’m going to look at your boggart.”

He was met with identical crestfallen looks. “Honestly,” he muttered. “Hermione, it’ll only take an hour, and then you can sit in on any class you want, and we’ll do lunch, and you two can talk – knit theory or something.”

“String theory,” they both corrected.

“Oh, well, lovely,” Harry said, ducking into his wardrobe and spelling on his robes over slacks and a sweater. “Whatever that is.”

They’d had two thirds of a conversation by the time Harry managed to change, and he had to physically drag Pansy out the door, shoving Hermione toward the Headmistress’ office. “Tell McGonagall I sent you,” he said. “And tell her to put it in plain English, please, or I’m letting Draco explain.”

“I can’t believe you just separated me from Granger,” Pansy muttered, as Harry took the stairs toward the second year classroom.

“Could you explain to me why you think this _isn’t_ a boggart?” Harry said, firmly ignoring her.

In Harry’s opinion, the first morning of classes could – perhaps – have gone a bit more smoothly. Pansy’s boggart turned out to be a huldra, which spent nearly twenty minutes trying to convince him to do increasingly inappropriate things to him while Pansy watched, not bothering to hold back hysterical laughter, and once Harry had convinced her that twelve year olds were unlikely to be particularly susceptible to her charms and that she might have significantly more luck in the Forbidden Forest, Pansy was left with ten minutes to formulate a lesson plan.

“It’s all right, I’ll just lecture on shape shifters,” Pansy said, sounding sort of depressed, and Harry groaned inwardly. “Though I do hate to leave out the practical components.”

“Come on, we’ll just combine classes,” he said, which is how they ended up with Pansy’s second year Slytherins and Ravenclaws and Harry’s first year Gryffindors and Slytherins packed into Harry’s classroom.

“Second years, I’ll expect your best behavior,” Harry said. “Pick a brazier, I’ll be going around to watch you put on the safety gear, and then we’ll talk about the practical and historical implications of the luduan.”

“ _Twenty points_ from Slytherin for showing an utter disregard for safety,” Pansy exploded, an hour later, as she sent a second first year to the hospital wing for burns because a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw had gotten into some sort of spat when one of them found she couldn’t speak about a missing necklace in front of the spirits and their daemons had knocked over an entire brazier.

“Blood traitor bitch,” muttered one of the second year Slytherins.

“And a hundred points from Slytherin for conduct unbecoming a representative of the house, and two weeks of detention with Professor Malfoy,” Harry said, calmly. “ _Not_ your Head of House, given that you seem to prefer the pureblood variety. Enjoy the greenhouses.”

Pansy was still putting out sparks furiously, and Harry turned down the fires, schooling his face to hide his irritation.

“Ten points to Ravenclaw for Miss Archworth’s excellent explanation of the Chinese dynastic succession process from the assigned reading,” he said. “Please read the chapter on Japanese folklore for Wednesday.”

“And ten points to Gryffindor for not blowing anything up,” Pansy added, glaring at the Slytherins.

“I’m not actually sure that’s a valid reason for points,” Harry said, finally, sending an owl to Bewick, who had his first years next, explaining that two of them would be late.

“Sod it all, I think this hole is permanent,” Pansy said, then paused. “Not really my finest pedagogical moment, was it?”

“Just send it to the house elves and bill me if it can’t be fixed,” Harry said, rubbing his head. “I’ve got fifth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors next.” 

“Watch out for Prewitt, he’s a snot,” Kitcaron said. “Let’s hope Draco’s having a better morning than us.”

Prewitt, true to character, knocked over Harry’s tank of will ‘o the wisps, sending them scurrying for every dark corner, and it took almost an extra half hour to round them all up. Harry had to take points away three more times, and he assigned Prewitt detention moving mud into a new exhibit for hot spring hellbenders.

When he found the staff lunch room, Pansy, at least, looked like her day had improved – Hermione was sitting on a couch feeding Hugo while they talked about some sort of wand link they’d performed for Pansy’s sixth year NEWT class, and Kitcaron and Atticus were on the other side of the sofa, talking in low tones.

Draco, however, came strolling in with a literal thundercloud overhead, underneath a conjured umbrella. Lethe slinked in behind him, dripping wet. “I’m going to need someone to remove this _bloody hex_ ,” he snarled, and then stopped short when he saw Hermione.

“Oh, good,” he said. “Granger, here to brighten my otherwise magnificent day. Potter, you ought to have said we were having a reunion, I would have brought my dueling wand. Where’s Weasley? I’d so hate to leave a member of the Golden Trio out of the festivities.”

To Harry’s surprise, it was Pansy who stepped in front of an open-mouthed Hermione, while the other professors stared from near the door. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Granger’s Potter’s and Potter’s with us, sort of, and she has some excellent ideas about transfiguring the granite into a substance with more magical conductivity, and if you so much as exchange one uncivil word with her, you will have me to contend with.” She looked him up and down and glared. “ _Tonight_.”

“Well,” Hermione said, when a long enough silence had passed that everyone in the room felt awkward, “I suppose I could start the duel by taking off that hex, if you’d like. But if you return fire, I’ll get to you before Dr. Malfoy does, because my son is currently eating lunch underneath my cloak.”

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Draco said, but he held still as Hermione removed the spell and cast a series of drying charms on him and, when she stepped closer, on Lethe.

“Better, darling?” Pansy said, sweetly, and Draco stomped off toward the table of food.

“I don’t think the fourth year combined class is going to survive the term,” Draco said, finally, sitting down at a table Harry had pulled over to the sofa. “I had an entire bed of orchestral snapdragons and someone set _every seedling_ on fire. Lorenson managed to save half of them with some sort of smothering spell, but honestly, we’re not even to _dangerous_ plants yet.”

“The second year Slytherins aren’t proving promising,” Harry said. He paused. “One of them has two weeks of detention with you.”

“I saw that in the log,” Lethe said, with a sigh.

“Well, Pansy’s sixth years seem delightful,” Hermione said. “A very engaged group, actually.”

Pansy laughed around a fork full of food. “They were just showing off for you,” she said. “But I require outstandings on OWLs, so they’d damn well better be good.”

“What happened with the points?” Draco said. “Slytherin’s down two hundred.”

“Half of that was me,” Harry said, and before Draco could say anything, Pansy narrowed her eyes.

“It’s a good thing he got there first, or I’d have taken every point,” she said, a little savagely. “’Blood traitor bitch’ indeed.”

“I would have bitten him for you,” Thaxia offered. “But I don’t usually bite strangers. Or students. I suppose I ought to have a moral policy about students.”

“Oh, delightful, I’ve got them this afternoon,” Draco said.

“First day’s the best day,” Pansy said, suddenly cheerful. “Granger, I don’t suppose you’d give a guest lecture for my seventh years?”

“I suppose,” Hermione said, slowly. “Hugo usually naps most of the afternoon.”

“Don’t be daft,” Pansy said. “No one will mind if there’s a baby if it’s _you_.”

“Pansy, your intellectual crush is showing,” Draco said, dryly. “Granger, I think you’d best be careful, she might make off with the baby to tutor it in the dark ways of Slytherin kind.”

“I would do no such thing,” Pansy said, firmly, then glanced at Hermione’s cloak. “You might let us meet him, though. Once he’s –“ She gestured.

“Finished breastfeeding?” Hermione said, dryly. “Yes, you can hold Hugo. Nerida’s shy, though. She’ll probably stay with me or Harry.” She laughed. “She’s still a fisher. I think she likes it.”

“You know, for the number of times you insultingly called me a weasel,” Draco mused, and Thaxia bared all her teeth at him.

“I don’t have a moral policy against biting faculty members yet,” she said.

“Potter would be far worse off without someone with a temper to balance out his general placid, boring nature,” Draco said, offering her a piece of tart off his fork. “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“I can’t decide whether that was the best backhanded compliment my daemon’s ever received or an awful insult,” Harry said. “Brava.”

Hermione laughed. “Thaxia settled a bit late,” she said. “Our theory is that she picked a tumultuous time in Harry’s life.”

“Bite me,” Thaxia said, taking Draco’s pie. 

“When _wasn’t_ there a tumultuous time in my life as an adolescent?” Harry said, laughing. “You’re lucky she’s not a wolverine. Or a grizzly.”

“No,” Thaxia said, extremely firmly. “I am who he is, and he is who I am, and we match. I just say the things he won’t.” She leaned toward Draco’s plate. “Like that you ought to give me more pie.”

“I really wasn’t thinking that,” Harry said.

“It’s hardly my fault that you ought to have been and weren’t,” Thaxia said.

“You get used to her,” Atticus said. “Don’t start, you know we love you.”

“Ugh, sentiment,” Thaxia said.

“Childhood trauma,” Hermione said, solemnly, and everyone laughed.

After dinner – which Harry was nearly ready to put his face into, he was so exhausted – they retired to Draco and Pansy’s sitting room, where Pansy had several books that made Hermione’s eyes gleam. “Oh, anything you’d like,” Pansy said, pouring a glass of wine, and leaned over Draco’s shoulder to cast a series of flickering lights above where Hugo was very solemnly eating a bottle and Nerida was tucked in against his side, apparently willing to tolerate Draco.

Hermione sighed – a sigh that, to Harry’s knowledge, had only ever been elicited by books – and pulled out a quill and the smallest of the books she’d trailed her fingers over, starting to take notes in a notebook. Harry brought her a cup of tea, taking the seat next to her, and watched her write. Atticus was asleep with his head tucked under his wing, and Thaxia was watching the baby with the Malfoys’ daemons, jumping after the lights as they all laughed. After a while Hermione looked up and laughed softly. “You’re exhausted,” she said. “All those students.”

“Very,” Harry said, with a yawn. He glanced over at Draco and Pansy, who were talking in hushed tones so as not to wake the sleeping baby, and if it hadn’t been for Hugo’s red hair and Draco’s endless remarks about holding something with Weasley genes they’d have looked… content. The perfect family. 

“I know she’s flip,” Harry started, a little awkwardly, and Hermione looked up at him with another laugh.

“No, she’s utterly brilliant,” she said. “She’s the best lecturer I’ve ever seen, actually, she makes Lupin look positively boring, and it’s on things no one ought to find interesting, let alone a gaggle of seventeen year olds.” Hermione glanced over her shoulder. “Sometimes people don’t want the attention of being serious, so they hide it. But don’t underestimate her, Harry. She’s a very powerful witch.”

“It’s strange,” Harry said, finally. “Being here instead of home. With you.”

Hermione smiled. “You’ll always have a home with us,” she said. “But you’re working on something important here. Something you need. The war – oh, I don’t know, Harry, it took your childhood and it took your adolescence and sometimes I think it took your ability to be happy with it. Do something you like. Be with your new friends. We’re not going anywhere.”

“My friends,” Harry said, letting the word pause in his mouth for a moment, and Hermione glanced over her shoulder again.

“Yes, I’d say so,” she said, dryly. “Malfoy never devoted much attention to anything he didn’t like.”

“So all the dueling and the name calling and the trapping me in train cars –“ 

“We were children, Harry,” Hermione pointed out. “And I doubt he’d been taught any different. Do you think Lucius and Narcissa loved him, the way yours and mine and Ron’s loved us? I know watching Ron was always hard for you, but you never doubted for a single moment.” She reached to tap his forehead. “Your mother’s love is written across your face. I doubt you can say as much for Malfoy.”

“No,” Harry said, finally. “They don’t seem to be on good terms. Something about his marr –“ He paused. “D’you know, is there much of a difference between being married and being contracted?”

“Oh,” Hermione said, putting her quill to her lip in an old, familiar habit. “Sort of, I suppose. I wouldn’t typically put the two together, although I guess they’re both bindings. Contracts were favored among purebloods who wanted house alliances, and they’ve usually got loads of clauses and rules. Marriage is –“ She thought for a moment. “As much as it pains me to admit it, marriage is a property transfer. I mean, of course, these days, it’s about loving and cherishing one another, but in the old days, marriage meant giving the bride and her ability to bear heirs to the groom in exchange for the responsibility of her and her magic. Contracts can be just as archaic, but with solicitors these days, they’re usually not. And marriage is between two people, and you only marry once at a time – a contract is a contract, it’s legally binding but you could have four hundred if you wanted. Why?”

“I think they’re contracted, but not married,” Harry said. “I keep getting corrected. But she’s taken his name, hasn’t she? They talk about heirs sometimes.”

“Interesting,” Hermione said. “I suppose if you were the Malfoy heir and you wanted an air tight bargain your parents couldn’t wriggle their way around, you might choose a contract. And it’s simultaneously a nod to history and a bit of a feminist fuck off, really. I’d have to read it, but I suspect it says she’s no one’s property but her own. And it’s a different sort of commitment. You can get divorced, but undoing a blood magic contract, if that’s what it is…” Hermione shook her head. “Next to impossible, even if both parties consent to the unbinding.”

“Hermione,” Harry said, patiently, and she looked up with a questioning glance, then laughed.

“Think of it as the Slytherin version of being married,” she said. “If, as a Slytherin, you wanted to tell your parents and everyone else to go to hell in the bargain.”

“Pietas super omnia,” Harry murmured, to himself.

“What’s that?” Hermione said. “You really have got to choose between having a conversation and getting my notes on this book, Harry.”

“Nothing,” he said, with a smile. “I’m going to go make sure they aren’t knitting the baby snake booties.”

“Ron would be particularly thrilled, I’m sure,” she said, dryly.

Hermione made her way through four books before the clock struck and she put her notebook down, looking regretful. “I’d better get home,” she said. “It’s past Rose’s bedtime.” She smiled at Hugo, who was still asleep in Draco’s arms. “And I’d better take them back, if you don’t mind.”

“We mind very much, they’re perfect and we’re keeping them,” Pansy teased, then leaned over the couch to kiss Hermione’s cheek. Hermione flushed, looking pleased.

“Thank you,” Pansy said. “Really. The help, the lecture –“

“I’ll do what I can,” Hermione said, face turning serious. “I do think Draco’s right, though. Your northeast wards and structures are the weakest, and they’re the closest to the forest. Leave the towers to McGonagall. The forest was nasty to begin with, and it’s only going to get nastier.” She considered. “And the lake’s not much better – you’ll want unbreakable barriers to section off the castle. Set them in the dungeons first, but every entrance, every hallway…”

“That’s going to take months,” Kitcaron said. “At least.”

Hermione shook her head. “The NEWT Defense students, NEWT Charm students, and NEWT Transfiguration students ought to have the castle covered in a week if you pair up one from each class with the others. And if it were me –“

Her face looked grimmer than Harry had seen it in a long time, maybe since the war. “Dark wizards… we ran those out quite a while ago. But magic has never been the safe picture the Ministry likes to paint, and one of the largest defenses against that darkness has a gaping wound next to a place that’s a siren song for things on the hunt for blood. I’d set traps, as many as you can, the sort that the wilder sorts of magic won’t have much effect on. Plants. Creatures. Make bargains, if you have to.” She paused. “Harry, I would not send my children here right now.”

“Do we need to evacuate the castle?” Harry said, bluntly.

Hermione paused. “McGonagall will know, if it comes to that. But be careful.” 

“I’ll walk you to her office,” Pansy said, quickly, with a glance over her shoulder at Draco, a conversation Harry couldn’t quite read.

“I love you,” Hermione said, hugging Harry tightly, and after a moment’s consideration, she kissed Malfoy on the cheek as well.

“Well,” Draco said, after the women had left through the portrait.

“Fuck, I need a drink,” Harry said, following Draco’s gesture to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself a scotch. The ice appeared in his glass without question, and he chalked it up to it being Malfoy’s.

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Granger’s not wrong,” Draco said.

“Granger’s very right, actually,” Lethe corrected.

“I think we might seal the castle against the lake,” Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs. “With wards to tell us if anything’s trying to get through. That would work with water.”

“But it won’t work with the forest,” Draco said, grimly. “And it won’t work with the tunnels through the dungeons. Goddamn Slytherin and his inordinate love of wandering mazes.”

“We can seal some of them,” Harry mused. “Wrap over it with bindweed.”

“Bindweed, sealsafe, and Pansy’s blanket stasis barrier,” Draco said. “That ought to keep just about everything out. We’ll boobytrap the rest. And alarm the hell out of everything.”

“Do we tell the students?” Thaxia said, quietly.

“They told us,” Draco said, flatly. “We owe them the same courtesy. At least, we’ve got to tell fifth year and above, and there aren’t any goddamned secrets in this castle. Much as I hate frightening children.”

“The power it’s going to take to seal that hole,” Harry said, with a sigh, and Draco laughed.

“A Gryffindor longing for power,” he said. “We ought to just start searching through the Room of Requirement, there’s probably some magical ward sealing device, passed down through Hufflepuff for twenty generations.”

“You know, that’s not the worst idea,” Harry said.

“No, that was a terrible idea, are you mad?” Draco said. “That scotch isn’t that strong.”

“Not that,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “But blood magic. The founders’ blood. It’s still around, isn’t it?”

“Yes, thank you, the cup of disgusting liquid that’s hidden so well even the castle can’t find it,” Draco said.

“Not that thing,” Harry said. “McGonagall said Pansy had some Ravenclaw blood in her. What would it take to figure that out? A search charm? Could we use it to – even the score?”

“Probably, but no, you’d never get it that way,” Draco said, then considered. “Pedigrees, though. Some of the Twenty-Eight have pedigrees back that far. And I’ll bet vital records in the Ministry could do it, if you had someone to put the pieces together.” 

“Hermione,” Harry said, firmly. “There’s no one else. Well, Pansy, but we can’t spare her. And Hermione has children, she’s much safer in a library.”

“You know she’d skin you alive for saying that, Potter,” Lethe said. “She had your back all along, don’t leave her out of it now.”

“But it’s no less true,” Draco said, firmly. “No more war orphans. Besides, Granger can get through that paperwork in – I don’t know, probably weeks, it’d take the rest of us years.”

“Then it’s because she’s best for the job, not because you’re coddling her,” Lethe snapped. “We do not wrap women in wool and lock them in attics, gentlemen.”

Harry blinked, taken aback at her sudden ferocity, and Draco inclined his head toward her. “All right,” he said. “No coddling. But I still can’t think of anyone better with that sort of thing than Granger.”

“Bill Weasley, actually,” Harry said. “I mean, Hermione’s better, but he’s nearly as good. And Fleur knows a hell of a lot of history.”

“Right,” Draco said. “Team Obnoxious Gryffindors and a Veela, in the Ministry archives.”

Harry snorted. “Leaving what, Team Obnoxious Slytherins and a Parseltongue in the trenches?”

“And someone to finalize rebuilding those towers,” Draco said, firmly. “It’s been a decade. That’s got to be finished. You can’t –“

“Transfigure something from nothing,” Harry finished, laughing. “Yes, I sat through all those classes too. I’ll talk to McGonagall in the morning. And floo Hermione and Bill.”

“Wasn’t your girl rather good at that sort of thing?” Draco said. “Building hexes into god knows what and all that? I thought she took a NEWT in History of Magic.” 

Harry winced. “Let’s not involve Ginny,” he said.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Draco said. 

“No,” Harry said, firmly. “She ended things and took up with Dean Thomas. I wasn’t right for her, and we both knew it, even if the fairytale compass was pointing in the right direction. Sometimes you just… outgrow one another. Sometimes the people you meet when you’re eleven aren’t the people you’re meant to be with your whole life.”

Draco took a long sip of wine. “But sometimes they are.”

“Sometimes it takes a while,” Thaxia said, from her spot on the back of the sofa.

“Takes a while to what?” Pansy said, letting herself and Kitcaron back in.

“Convince Potter to play truth or dare,” Draco said, mildly.

“No, absolutely not,” Harry said. “Exploding snap, maybe, but nothing that involves anyone disrobing.”

“Oh dear, Potter,” Pansy said, hanging up her robes on a hook near the door and kicking off her heels. “You Gryffindors do get so hung up on these things.”

“There’s a plan,” Harry said, watching as she advanced toward him. “Draco and I can fill you in. It’s basic, mind you, but I think –“ he trailed off as Pansy pushed the hand holding his scotch glass down against the table, sliding until she was straddling his lap.

“You’ve got secrets,” she said, quietly, her nose inches from his, almost a sing-song. “I want to know them.”

“Really –“ Harry said. Thaxia was utterly failing to come to his defense, draped across the back of the sofa. Pansy’s jumper was very soft, and he could smell her perfume. Different from Hermione’s, he thought. It was sharp and spiced where hers was sweet, and the only floral notes were thick and heavy. Harry thought about what Hermione had said, _a very powerful witch_ , and Kitcaron suddenly made sense. Pansy was predatory, with all the easy grace and deep magic running just underneath her skin, and he swallowed. She was not, he was realizing, a person you wanted to cross.

“Would it really be so bad,” Pansy said, sliding her hands up his shirt, leaning in so close he could feel her body heat in the inches between them.

“Yes, I rather think,” Harry said, voice going up, and Draco cleared his throat.

“Pansy, there are a lot of things I’m willing to tolerate, but I’m not entirely certain my wife straddling another man in my living room is one of them,” he said.

“I could straddle you instead,” she said, climbing off.

“Or we could play exploding snap and no one would want to murder you,” Kitcaron suggested.

“Boys,” Pansy said, flopping down next to the coffee table and summoning a deck from another room. “You all get so ridiculously jealous when I test hypotheses.”

“And what, pray tell, hypothesis was _that_?” Draco said.

“Nothing,” Pansy said. “Really, nothing at all.”

“I really don’t know why I put up with you,” Draco murmured, tugging on a piece of her hair, and she looked up at him with a radiant smile.

“Because I’m very, very good in bed,” she teased. “Or I could be very, very bad, if you wanted. And I’m brilliant. And yours.”

“Seriously, do all of you spend this much time discussing your sex lives when we aren’t around?” Thaxia interrupted, hopping down onto a couch cushion. “Because as fascinating as it is, I’d just as soon you not kill him from embarrassment.”

“ _No_ ,” said Kitcaron, with a flick of his tail, and Lethe laid down beside him.

“I’d really rather we didn’t,” she agreed. “And don’t set my tail on fire again.”

“One time,” Draco said, with a sigh. “You do something _one_ time.“

Harry was surprised at how little time it took. Hermione was already on maternity leave, and Fleur, five months pregnant, sounded a little relieved at the prospect of staying closer to London and at Bill coming home from a job in Turkey. Molly agreed to watch their girls and Rose, and with a little prompting from Ron, Bill agreed to postpone an extension of his contract and take a leave of absence.

McGonagall agreed that the repairs had gone without finishing for far too long, and Harry came out a week later to find a team of wizards carefully levitating stones up to fill in a gap in what had been the astronomy tower.

“Well, that just leaves us,” Harry said, with a sigh, and Thaxia snorted. “Admit it, you’re excited. Adventure! Traps! The Malfoys!”

“We see quite enough of them already,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. 

“Says you,” said Thaxia.

Harry supposed that if Thaxia was hoping for more of the Malfoys, she was probably overjoyed when Pansy appeared in his room well after midnight, holding a lantern. “Potter?” she called. “Wake up. We’ve got to go to the forest.”

“What?” he said, sitting up and fumbling for his trousers. “Is something wrong, has there been –“

“No, no,” Pansy said. “Draco has to steal a sheep. And harvest something or another. I told him I wouldn’t let him go alone, and he said he wasn’t watching my back, so now we need you.”

“A sheep,” Harry repeated, sleepily.

“Yes, yes, it’s urgent, come on, Potter,” Pansy said. She was dressed differently than usual, in high boots and muggle jeans, with a coat buttoned nearly to her throat. “If we don’t get down there quickly enough, he’s liable to leave without us.”

“Right, because of the sheep,” Harry said, as if it made sense, and poked Thaxia.

“They’re being insane,” he said. “We’ve got to go to the Forbidden Forest at three in the morning.”

“I love this newfound partnership,” Thaxia said, with barely controlled glee, and bounded to wait next to Pansy.

“You are all utterly sick in the head,” Harry said.

Draco was already waiting by the greenhouses, pointedly tapping his food, and he looked them up and down in an insouciant sort of way. “You do realize I’ve been doing this alone for years.”

“Yes,” Pansy said. “And you kept having to petrify me to do it, so it wasn’t a good idea then, either.”

“Yes, well, now we’ve made it into a party,” Draco said. “A ‘come and eat me, lethal things in the forest’ party.”

“You still waited,” Pansy pointed out. 

“At least Potter’s daemon isn’t the size of a small horse,” Lethe remarked.

Kitcaron bared his teeth at her, swiping a paw. “Potter’s daemon can’t _eat_ a small horse.”

“Sizeist,” Thaxia muttered. “I could so.”

“Would everyone _shut up_ ,” Harry said, loudly. He cleared his throat. “Could someone please explain to me why we’re going into the Forbidden Forest at three o’clock in the morning for a _sheep_?”

“One, the smoking oleander is blooming in the poison garden, and I need it for the dungeons, and I’m going to get some jequirity while I’m in there for next week’s potion lesson,” Draco said. “Two, my vampire squash are starting to nip at everyone’s ankles, and last time I was in, there was an entire herd of sheep about a mile in that no one’s looking for. They like mutton. And if we can’t find them, Lethe and Kit can take out a deer.” He paused. “I’m sure Thaxia can help somehow.” 

“I’ll have you know a fisher’s primary diet includes porcupines, and we’ve hunted lynx,” Thaxia muttered.

“Right,” Harry said. “Just one question.”

“Why not, we’ve got all night,” Draco said.

“Half of the things in your greenhouse are already lethal, why on earth do you have a poison garden?” Harry said.

“I’m a purist,” Draco said. “It’s the plants that are literally poisonous. Or, well, that will kill you instantly with no reversal. I can save you from things that would like to pin you to a wall and eat you, but if the angel’s trumpet goes for you, there’s no antidote.”

“And we’ve got this stuff at a boarding school why, exactly?” said Pansy.

“Potions ingredients,” Draco replied. “Besides, I like it.”

“Like everything here isn’t trying to kill everyone anyway,” Harry pointed out. “Let’s go.”

Draco held open the gate behind the greenhouses, letting Pansy duck through first, and then lead the way down the cobblestone path. If it hadn’t been the middle of the night and if Harry hadn’t known where he was walking, it might almost have been beautiful – autumn in Scotland, with fog from the lake dim between the trees, and a bright moon shining overhead. As it was, Harry found he couldn’t quite bring himself to enjoy the view.

“Pansy, stay here and watch the gate,” Draco said. “Potter, you’re with me, you’ve got steady hands.” He lifted a bag from his side, pulling out jars. “Cut a bunch of the flowers and get it into the preservation jar as quickly as you can. You’ve got to breathe through a bubble charm.” He handed over a pair of gloves and a very large scalpel. “These are sphinx-skin, they’ll nullify the sap, but they’re not particularly good against knives, so don’t cut yourself, or you’ll probably die. And yes, it’s necessary, the flowers won’t last long enough to get into the jars otherwise.” He paused. “Not everything in here is magical, but everything in here would sooner kill you than let you look at it, so be careful, all right? Thaxia and Lethe stay with Pansy.” 

“Right,” Harry said, grimly, pulling on the gloves and taking the knife and several of the jars. Draco pulled out a key ring and physically undid a series of locks and deadbolts, then murmured several passwords at the stone behind the gate, which parted. He gestured Harry under.

Harry cast the charm over his mouth, biting back the feeling that he was underwater, and looked around. Most of the plants were protected by strong barrier spells, and Draco gestured him forward to a set of tall bushes. He _pushed_ , as if through a curtain, and then Harry could see bunches of pale pink flowers, putting up tiny tendrils of white smoke.

He looked for a moment, fighting off memories of having to trim the hedges at the Dursleys, and found a spot where the stem of the flower was completely separate from the leaves. He unscrewed a jar, cutting firmly through the stem, and dropped it in, tightening the lid. The flowers inside shimmered for a minute and then looked exactly as before: still smoking. Draco gave him a nod of approval and disappeared around the other side of the bush.

Harry filled six or seven jars before his section of the bush began to look rather sparse, and Draco circled back, carrying the bag. He looked at each of Harry’s carefully, then tucked them in the bag, holding aside the charm so Harry could climb out again. Draco took off his charm. “Nicely done, Potter,” he said. “You actually did better than me, I couldn’t get a cluster in fast enough and they went out. A theoretical ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Very generous,” Harry said, dryly, and Draco laughed, undoing several locks on a small building and ducking indoors. “I wouldn’t touch anything,” he said, then walked down an aisle, finding a vine and pulling the gloves back on before he pulled out another, entirely different sort of jar.

“These aren’t very dangerous, actually,” Draco said. “Well, not to touch, anyway, unless you prick yourself on the end.” He broke off several seedpods, holding them up to the window, and put them in the jar. 

“What are we doing next week?” Harry said. He’d largely let Draco draw up the syllabus on the grounds of having utterly no idea what sort of Potions the seventh years ought to be making; so far, he was handling the theoretical part of the lecture and Draco was handling the practical, which seemed to be working out rather nicely, since Harry couldn’t really screw up knowledge about the properties of selkie fur.

“Romeo and Juliet,” Draco said, then snorted at the look on Harry’s face.

“That’s very illegal,” he said. The Daemon Potion was, at least in Hermione’s opinion, practically an unforgiveable of the potion world – it locked two people together, regardless of consent, in a dizzying, wonderful love affair, but anything suffered by one partner was mirrored to the other. As she’d put it, “You’d very much hope no one gets hit by a bus.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Draco said. “They universally botched it last year, the timing’s nearly impossible, and _if_ anyone’s successful, I’ll just confiscate it and give it to Lethe. You know it’s harmless with daemons.”

“Well, yes, we’re rather linked anyway,” Harry muttered.

“Or I could just slip it in your tea,” Draco said, cheerfully. “Teach you to keep drinking things in the Potions lab.”

Harry laughed. “I’m not sure Hermione would keep helping you with the wards if you poisoned me.”

“Well, she’d hardly know, would she?” Draco teased. “Perhaps our misspent youth was just repressed adolescent hormones.”

“I rather suspect Pansy would notice.”

“Oh, probably,” Draco said, a bit of a strange note in his voice. “Speaking of, come on, she’s probably about to have a fit at being left with _only_ three carnivores to guard her.”

Harry snorted. “Are you kidding me? Odds on Pansy, every time.”

Draco smiled. “Yes, well, she doesn’t always know how very good she is.”

Draco locked them back out and cast the reversal spell, opening the stones again, to find Pansy waiting on the other side of the gate. She did, indeed, look rather peeved. “At least set up a linkage spell next time so you’ll hear me yell as I’m being eaten.”

“Won’t work across the barriers,” Draco said, then pulled out a jar to pass over. “But I have brought you some extraordinarily lethal flowers.”

“Huh,” Pansy said, suddenly looking more interested. “I remember these. The fragrance is fatal, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Draco said. “And I’ve convinced them they’re growing out of the nutrient solution in the jar lids, so they’ll hang there in bloom forever so long as I replace it every six months or so. Two air curtain charms and these on the ceiling and anything trying to break in will hit the floor before it realizes it’s dead.” 

“Nicely done,” said Pansy. “Potter, I’ve yet to see as much creativity from your side of things, perhaps Gryffindors really are better at doing than planning.”

“I’m still milking venom from the taipans,” Harry said. “But I’ve got thirty or so hypodermic stakes. Draco digs a pit, we plant them densely enough that anything that falls in gets hit, and put on a false floor over the top.”

“Won’t work on anything that floats or flies,” Pansy retorted.

“Bioattraction field on the bottom,” Draco and Harry said, then grinned at one another. Harry found himself flushing; praise from Draco was relatively rare. 

“And you, Dr. Malfoy?” he said.

“I’m working on –“ She paused, making a face. “Granger said she thought there was a decent chance that if this continues, the dead buried on the ground weren’t particularly likely to… stay dead.”

“So, zombies,” Harry said, laughing.

“Oh, don’t,” Pansy said. “There are three cemeteries and god knows what from the war. We only know they buried everyone, not where. I know I’ve got to go with an everburning potion, touch as the trigger. But at the moment I’m having a bit of difficulty because ghosts keep setting it off.”

“Probably ought to figure out some ‘if corporeal,’ charm clause,” Draco mused. “Have Harry spin it into some of your precious spider webs and coat the whole thing with them.”

“Interesting,” said Pansy. “That might work.”

“You know, we might be better off working on these together,” Lethe pointed out.

“We might be better off working on these after supper, in the delightful comfort of the castle,” Kitcaron muttered.

“I could probably kill a taipan,” Thaxia mused, and Harry scruffed her.

“ _No_ ,” he said, firmly. “You’re not a mongoose. Besides, now I’ve got to collect venom from them for Potions _and_ this, I can’t spare any snakes.”

“Killjoy,” Thaxia said.

“You know, I was not under the impression the Forbidden Forest was an excellent pace for chit -chat,” Kitcaron said, irritably, and Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Let’s go find Draco his exceptionally stupid, probably mutated sheep.”

“This way,” Draco said. “But be quiet. You’ll scare off all the game, and besides, Kit’s right. There are things here we’d rather not wake.”

It was a long, single file walk, Harry’s wand hand itching with the sheer, unfamiliar magic of the place, and he found himself thinking far less charitably of the fog. It was damp and dark, and even Thaxia was quiet.

“There,” Draco said, about an hour later, gesturing to a clearing, and sure enough, it was a field of perfectly ordinary looking sheep, tucked down to sleep in the grass.

“I think Lethe and I ought to,” Kitcaron said, after a moment. “Predators aren’t extraordinary. And something’s telling me death magic isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s not,” Thaxia murmured. “Something, there’s something –“

“There’s something off about some of those sheep,” Pansy said, taking a step backwards, only a few inches off the path, and then she was screaming, cut abruptly short by a very well-aimed hit from Kit’s paw.

He crumpled, unconscious, and then she was hanging upside down in front of them, limp, feet wrapped in a noose.

“That’s my snare,” Draco said. “But it wasn’t here, and it wasn’t…“ He looked at the long length up the tree. “Harry, what _is_ that?”

“Spider web,” Harry said, grimly. “Burn through it and get her down. Now.”

He slid his wand out of its sleeve, and tried not to gag. Pansy had been right, the sheep were merely wrapped in spider silk and the ones who weren’t were paralyzed, wide-eyed with terror. Nothing was moving, but nothing was _moving_ , and Harry knew with absolute certainty that they’d been watching, listening – this had been a far more elaborate trap than he’d thought. He cursed, softly.

“Draco,” he said, quietly, as Draco cut Pansy down. “They know that’s gone off, and they know we’re here, and we’ve got maybe ninety seconds to come up with something.”

“This isn’t a particularly Gryffindor sort of plan,” Draco said. “But I think I know a place to hide.”

“Think you know, or know,” Harry said. “I can’t hold these things off, and they’re playing with us.”

“Know,” Draco said, firmly. He passed Pansy to Harry and slung Kit over his shoulder. Thaxia’s teeth were chattering.

“Lethe leads. I’m going to follow you,” Harry said. “Don’t stop, don’t turn around, don’t stumble, and for god’s sake, don’t look behind you, because there are going to be a hell of a lot of spiders who are incredibly pissed off that we’re in their forest.”

“Right,” Draco murmured, grimly, and Lethe set off down the embankment on the other side of the trail. Draco slid behind her with a lot more grace than Harry managed, through low branches and brush, but there weren’t any webs here, and Harry didn’t stop to think about why the spiders had stopped there, he just _ran_.

It felt like forever, but was probably closer to ten minutes, when Draco drew to a panting stop. “Where is it, where is it,” he murmured, hands up against the trunk of an enormous tree, searching, and then he paused.

“You won’t like this,” he said.

“Just do it,” Harry said, and Draco pressed his hand flat to a chunk of bark that looked a little different than the rest, and the whole world spun as Harry was thrown forward through trees that parted for him like water, but with no control over his body. He kept his grip on Pansy and tried to breathe, because it felt like forever, but then he was on his knees on flagstones.

“Fuck,” Harry said, and managed to put Pansy down before he was abruptly sick behind a bush.

Draco, the bastard, had somehow managed to land on his feet, but he was panting and pale. “Right,” he said. “I don’t care if they don’t like it, the squash can have their bloody mutton from the kitchens.”

Harry started laughing, the sort of hysterical laughter that started in the pit of his stomach and wouldn’t stop, and a moment later, Draco was laughing too, so hard he slid over against Kit and was gasping for breath against a bench.

“Fuck,” Harry said, again, shaking his head, and Pansy started to sit up.

“What’s the… joke,” she managed, fuzzily. “My head –“

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Draco said, gently, and murmured a sleeping charm against her temple until she slumped back down against the stones.

“Here’s hoping Hermione feels like covering her classes tomorrow,” Harry said.

“I think she’s got a concussion, and this ankle looks wrong,” Draco said. “But Kit would be in worse shape if she were in any sort of danger.”

“I see a sudden upside to my daemon,” Harry quipped, then looked, finding her cowering under a bench, teeth still chattering.

“I looked,” she said. “I looked and looked, but Harry, they didn’t chase us. They didn’t chase us. They stopped at the path.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Draco said. “So all that was for nothing–“

“No,” Harry said, quietly. “It means we got lucky. Because if it’s enough to scare an acromantula out of its territory, we didn’t want to meet it.”

Harry finally climbed to his feet to sit on the bench, looking around for the first time. They were much closer to the lake, almost on the other side of the forest, and there were arches and arbors, covering with plants that rustled faintly in the wind. It was, he realized, warm, warmer than it ought to have been. “What is this?”

“It’s a moon garden,” Draco said, climbing to his feet as well. “It was a wedding present from a herbology professor a few hundred years ago to his wife.” He cracked a somewhat weak smile. “I’ve gathered she probably wasn’t a werewolf.”

“Huh,” Harry said, and then he realized one walkway was covered with a familiar looking vine, red flowers shining in the moonlight.

“Half the plants here come alive at the full moon, the other half at new,” Draco said, quietly. “It’s really quite beautiful.” He looked a little rueful. “And until ten minutes ago, it was my very well-kept secret, so I’d rather you not tell anyone.”

“If you’ll bring me back when it blooms,” Harry said, looking at the arbor, and was surprised to find Draco smiling.

“All right,” Draco agreed. “We’re about a twenty minute walk from the lakeshore. Wait for morning, cut through and take the lake route back, which seems imprudent at best, or go back toward the castle and follow the wall?”

“Sunrise,” Lethe said, from where she’d laid down next to Kit, her muzzle tucked against his shoulder. “The forest smelled of death.”

“The sheep,” Harry said, and she closed her eyes and shuddered.

“Not dead things, Harry,” she said, sounding very tired. “Death.”

The morning sun felt good on his face, _right_ , and even Thaxia relaxed a bit once the sun was up. There was a clear path through the woods to the lake, a path that looked utterly innocuous in the morning sunlight, and the lakeshore lead them to one of the castle gates.

“Coin toss for who’s with Pansy when she wakes up and who’s got to tell McGonagall?” Draco said, not sounding particularly hopeful.

“Not in a hundred thousand years,” Harry said. “She’s your wife. Besides, I can’t carry Kit.”

“Oh,” Draco said, looking a little surprised, and Harry snorted.

“I just assumed you’d touched him _before_ ,” he said, and Draco’s cheeks went red.

“It’s not as if either one of them is conscious,” Draco said.

“Excellent, I’ll put you down for lecturing the fourth years on the importance of consent,” Harry said, dryly. “’Do whatever you like, so long as they’re not conscious, that’s the important bit.’”

“You do know the whole sex thing is bloody stupid,” Draco informed him. “It’s not like that.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush. “I wouldn’t know,” he said, firmly. “And before you even start in with it, yes, I’ve had plenty of sex, but you’ve met Thaxia. It’s never been that sort of –“ He waved a hand.

“I thought you and girl Weasley were _engaged_ ,” Draco said, sounding a bit fascinated.

“There were… things,” Harry said, awkwardly.

“Oh, things,” Draco said. “The great downfall of every relationship in the land.”

“Ginny’s daemon is a complete and utter prick,” Thaxia said, sleepily, from where she was tucked inside Harry’s coat.

Draco bit back a laugh. “Right, I see why that particular liaison didn’t lead to any profound intimacy.”

“It’s complicated.”

“You know, it really isn’t, it’s just that –“ Thaxia said, and Harry clamped his free hand on her muzzle.

“Look,” he said. “Let’s just both go to the hospital wing, owl McGonagall and Hermione, and then drink ourselves into a coma.”

“Excellent plan,” Draco said. “She can only yell at one of us at once, really.”

“Want to bet?” Harry said, dryly.

As it turned out, Pansy had a broken ankle, three fractured ribs, a cut on her scalp that required stitches, and the expected concussion. And she was utterly furious – at Draco for nearly going into the forest alone, at Kit for knocking her out, and at Harry for carrying her about as if she were some sort of damsel in distress and not a _witch_.

McGonagall didn’t see the need to give them a dressing down – “You’re not schoolchildren, Harry, you’re professors, and the forest is no less a part of the castle than the Chamber of Secrets” – but the frown lines on her face tightened at Lethe’s description of the forest.

“I shall have to make some inquiries,” she said, looking them over. “Go to bed, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy. I shall cover your courses for the afternoon.”

“I’m not bloody well giving up teaching my NEWT students –“ Pansy began, and Harry clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Hermione is going to come lecture,” he said, firmly. “You are going to stay here and rest.”

“Oh, all right, but only because it’s Granger,” she said, still sounding put out, and Draco levitated a bed next to Pansy’s.

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I can sleep here. She’s my wife.” He glanced at Harry, sidelong, uncertain, and Harry cleared his throat.

“I’m not either,” he said, and, at McGonagall’s slightly surprised look. “They’re my friends.”

“You’re lucky the hospital wing is empty of students today,” was all she said, before heading off.

“You don’t have to, Potter,” Pansy started, and to Harry’s surprise, it was Draco who shook his head.

“He carried you all night,” he said, quietly. “And he – it’s all right, Pansy, he means it.”

Harry was about to add something when Thaxia hopping up on the foot of the cot where Kit was lying, looking drowsy but otherwise mostly all right. “It was awful, and I’m traumatized,” she announced. “I need larger carnivores for protection. And if you try to make me leave, I’ll –“

“Bite you, yes, we know,” Pansy said, sounding fond in spite of herself, and Thaxia huffed and tucked herself into the soft fur of Lethe’s belly, curling up. Draco levitated another bed over, and Harry kicked off his boots and crawled into it.

“You know, I’d forgotten how bloody uncomfortable these things are,” he said.

Draco snorted, and a moment later, they were all in a feather bed with far too many pillows and an enormous wool blanket.

“I’ll expect you to leave that the way you found it, Professor Malfoy,” the nurse said, sternly, when she came to give Pansy her Potions.

Harry and Draco set the traps that evening while Pansy did research with Hermione in the Restricted Section. The work was painstaking and involved more physical labor than even Harry liked, but Draco didn’t complain, so he didn’t either. They set one of each trap type in every tunnel, with Draco’s closest to the outside, then Pansy’s, then Harry’s, since there was a finite supply of snake venom. Harry had no idea how the spiders had managed to spin so much over the course of a day, but Pansy left him a note suggesting that they really needed more crickets, and by Harry’s calculations, they’d had a month’s worth. He just wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know how she’d _encouraged_ them.

“Three tunnels down,” Draco said, panting, covered in mud from levitating dirt out of the last pit, at least a portion of which had proved to be beneath the water line. “What’s that, six to go?”

“That we know of,” Harry said, grimly. 

“McGonagall’s had the NEWT students on the unbreakable barriers all day,” Draco said. “The dungeons are warded, at least, and the towers.” He paused. “Apparently Bellweather’s wife has some connection in the Middle East, he’s getting us a sphinx.”

“Oh, that’ll be a delight,” Harry said, with a sigh. 

“It will,” Thaxia said, looking pleased.

“She likes them,” Harry said. “I’m convinced someone dropped her on the head at a young age.”

Draco stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Or, you know, you broke a killing curse with your head,” he pointed out, trying to keep a straight face.

“D’you know, I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever cracked a joke about that,” Harry mused.

“I live to make light of important events in wizarding history,” Draco said. “Come on. I want a shower. And alcohol. And we probably ought to make sure Pansy and Granger haven’t been eaten alive by books or actually become part of the library or something.”

“You’re sharing,” Lethe said. “I’m stiff as hell.”

“Professor’s bathroom it is,” Draco said.

“What, you don’t have something eighty times as grand in your suites?” Harry teased.

“The good bath is Pansy’s, and so help me if I touch a single tap,” Draco said, then paused.

“You did leave a vial of never fading ink directly next to her mascara,” Lethe said. “I think you’ve been fairly banned.”

“You know, I rather think I’m glad I avoided matrimony after all,” said Harry. “See you tomorrow morning to check on the pearl millet sharks? I know I saw at least one mermaid’s purse yesterday.”

“Yes,” Draco said, with a grin. “I knew that building was a brilliant idea. We can have all the nicest things if we just source them directly.”

“I’m not really sure I’d call dried shark egg shells, for lack of a better term, ‘nicest things.’”

“Yes, well, you try telling that to an entire castle of women whom I’ve got to keep supplied with contraceptive Potions,” Draco said. “You _are_ going to start learning the basic medicinals, Potter, the commercial stuff is awful and we need about a hundred bottles of Pepper Up, everyone’s going to get colds next month.”

“Oh, I’ve made that,” Harry said, then paused. “Admittedly, it exploded, but I’m actually pretty sure that time _you_ sabotaged me.”

“Don’t remember,” Draco said. “Though the time all your crickets started playing utterly inappropriate Wailing Banshees songs was absolutely me.”

“That was awful, and I’m going to kill you someday,” Harry said. “As it stands, theoretical twenty points from Slytherin for inappropriate behavior and interfering with another student’s work.”

“Yes, but theoretical ten points back because I got away with it, and theoretical ten from Gryffindor for you having absolutely no sense of humor.” Draco grinned. “Even.”

“In the morning,” Harry said, shaking his head, and headed toward the library to find Hermione.

As it turned out, Harry didn’t get to check on the sharks or much of anything else, since Hermione dragged him back to London with her that evening for a meeting with Bill in the morning. It was good to see Ron and to read Rose her bedtime stories, to sit around playing chess and laughing while Hermione read, but when Harry finally retired to his old room – the one he’d kept for years before getting a flat down the street when Hermione had gotten pregnant with Hugo, and the one Hermione refused to change – everything seemed less bright than usual, somehow. The lights of London were far too strong, and Ron and Hermione’s laughter from the kitchen as they finished up the dishes was warm and comforting and – different, Harry realized. He’d never outgrow them, but it had never occurred to him that it might be possible to want – to need – more than one family.

“Wa-ter?” Rose said, peeking around his cracked door, Endymion riding on her shoulder as a parrot; they’d been reading stories about pirates at bedtime.

“Yes, all right, one glass,” Harry said, laughing, and climbed out of bed to pick her up. “Then we’re going to play a game where I count to one hundred and you listen. It’s very important to learn your numbers, you know.”

“Yes, Uncle Harry,” Rose said, firmly, and Harry smiled. It was, at least, good to know that _this_ family was doing well.

“So Bill’s really brilliant, actually, he figured it out,” Hermione said, the next morning, standing over a table with a tray on top. Bill was leaning back in a chair, his feet propped up on the table, and Fleur was at a mediwitch appointment that she’d insisted no one needed to go along to, since “ze research!” was more important.

“Careful, Ron will accuse me of trying to steal his wife,” Bill said, amused. “I just called in a few favors at Gringotts. Got a few vaults robbed, that sort of thing. Temporarily, of course. We’ll put everything back.”

“Of course,” Harry said, dryly. “So explain this stunning plan of yours to me. And tell me why on earth you needed me and not Pansy, she’s the academic.”

“Because of your blood, Fleur’s reasonably certain you’ve got Slytherin,” Hermione said.

“What, and we think Draco hasn’t?”

“Firstly, I didn’t want to put up with Malfoy all morning,” Hermione said. “And secondly, we need to see how many lines we can get down through. Malfoy’s will certainly be through the Blacks, but yours might be through the Potters, which go back differently, and –“

“For the love of God, Hermione,” Bill said. His fox demon, Iphinesia, muttered her agreement.

“It’s academic and important,” Hermione protested, and Bill rolled his eyes. “I’ve been stuck in here with her and my wife for days. Have you ever met a hormonal Veela woman, Harry? It’s utterly delightful.”

“Oh, knock it off, you were nearly shagging between the bookshelves the other day,” Hermione said. “Though, she is in the second trimester, it rather bears out your theory.”

Bill held his hands up. “And then I burned the garlic bread with dinner and she started hissing at me in a language I didn’t understand and her face changed shape. Literally.”

“Not like you haven’t been through this twice before,” Atticus pointed out.

“That was different,” Bill said. “I mean – the hormone thing, yeah, sort of, but not like this.”

“Well, you’re having a boy,” Hermione said. “And neither of us can find any record of that, so god only knows what it’s doing to poor Fleur.”

“Okay, one, didn’t know, congratulations on the diversity, I’m sure Victorie and Dominique are thrilled,” Harry said, dryly. “Two, Hermione, you’re the most unbearable pregnant woman I’ve ever met because you insist that no one’s allowed to mention your pregnancy while crying at… I don’t know, _everything_. You petrified me in a fit of rage for forgetting that you had a mediwitch appointment at ten _fifteen_ and not _ten_ , meaning that I was _early_ , and three, before you hex me again, could we please get to the point of what I’m doing in London instead of working on securing the castle and educating fourteen year olds about what not to do with sea serpents?”

“Please don’t hex him, I need his blood,” Bill said. 

“That was once,” Atticus said. “And you probably deserved it. Well, she thought you did, anyway.”

Thaxia sounded as if she was laughing, and Harry bit back a retort.

“Just sit there and roll your sleeve up,” Bill said, drawing his wand. “Still no good way to do this magically, so you’ll feel the antiseptic spell and then a stick. You’ve got to give your consent, though. Repeat this. Word for word.

“I, my little brother’s prat of a best friend, consent to give my blood for the purposes of determining whether I may be related to a Hogwarts founder and, should my blood show such evidence, I consent that my blood may be used to enhance, remake, or otherwise aid Hogwarts castle wards, grounds, and buildings. These shall be its sole purposes, and it may not be used for anything outside the purview of what I have consented to here without further express consent from myself or a designated party.”

“Really?” Harry said.

“Really,” Bill said, with a sigh. “Ask Fleur and Hermione.”

Harry repeated the consent back, shaking his head. 

A moment later, he handed Harry a piece of gauze and held up a vial of blood that was labeling itself, ‘Potter, Harry J., collected 9/29/08, 11:02 AM, GMT, exact verbal consent acquired.’ 

“Hermione?”

“Right,” she said, pulling the cover off the table and lifting what looked like a cake topper off four objects: a necklace with more diamonds than Harry had ever seen in his life, a mother of pearl hair comb, a very plain China bowl with a few cracks running through it and a chipped edge, and a dented metal music or jewelry box.

“They’re found objects,” Bill explained. “All the Founders left heirlooms, of course, which we know about courtesy of bloody Voldemort, but what most people don’t know is that there are hundreds of objects they wanted… kept in the family so to speak.”

“They’re really mostly utter rubbish by now,” Hermione said. “It’s hard to find anything that’s survived so long at all, let alone the sort of thing we needed, but Bill’s pretty brilliant.”

“There you go again,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Look, the point is, the Founders and their oh-so-proud descendants made these things with the intention of never letting anyone outside of the family use them. It was really quite snotty, actually, the way they cast the spells means that even if you’ve married in, you’re not game. I bet the various Mrs. Slytherins down the line just loved having all those things they couldn’t use.” Bill gestured “They burn like hell when you touch them, if you haven’t got the right stuff.”

“The right stuff?” Harry echoed.

“Founder blood,” Hermione said. “But it’s actually even more marvelous than that, look.”

She pricked her finger with one of Bill’s needles, holding it over the music box. “This is Gryffindor, not that you need to know,” she said, laughing. “It’s a bit of a shame, really, the muggleborn witch doesn’t have the blood of great and powerful wizards running through her veins.”

“Neither do I, and I’m supposed to be all kinds of pureblood,” Bill said, laughing.

“Ready?” Hermione said, glancing at Bill, who picked up the glass cover and stood.

“Yeah, got it,” he said, and she squeezed a single drop of blood on top of the box.

Bill slammed down the cover, which Harry assumed had quite a few fortifying charms, and he watched with fascinating as Hermione’s blood sizzled for a moment on the music box and then exploded outward in a fine red mist.

“Fuck, I’d hate to see what they do to people they _do_ like,” he said.

“See, nobody without the bloodline can touch the things, which you can imagine leaves a bit of a pickle for the goblins,” Bill said, casting a biocleaning charm on the glass. “So if they find these things in dead vaults, or anyone wants to put one in a vault, they’ve got to recruit a specialist, which is all very expensive and time consuming, and it’s usually over something the owner didn’t even know they had. So if you’re going to deposit one, you’ve got to sign about a hundred pages of goblin contract law that makes utterly no promises to the safety and security of the object unless you pay something like several thousand galleons extra, and…”

“Here’s the brilliant part, Harry,” Hermione said, beaming.

“And allows for removal of the objects from the Gringotts premises at any time.”

“The specialist removal team usually does haunted objects, but they’ve got a few people who specialize in these sorts of things,” Bill said. “One, actually. He’s a shopkeep in Diagon Alley, uses the extra money they pay him to take his wife on vacations. Don’t ask me how, but the lucky bastard ended up with the blood of all four founders in his veins. He doesn’t know it, of course, and I honestly don’t think the specialist removal team does either, just that for some reason the Goblins like him and want to keep hiring him back, but the Goblins know him like the back of their hand. So we’ve got these four, with a few back ups in case they start to fizzle out, and a few vials of his blood.”

“We’ve tested, oh, I don’t know, a few hundred people,” Hermione said. “I’m doing a new study on the geneaology of the founders and its impact on the magical architecture of Hogwarts, for the record, Harry, and Fleur’s assisting me with the historical recordkeeping. Bill’s just here to keep watch on his hormonal wife.”

“Thanks,” Bill said, dryly. “Try it, Harry.”

“Er, okay,” Harry said. “What’s what, then?”

“The music box was Gryffindor’s, the hair piece was Ravenclaw’s, necklace is Hufflepuff’s, and the bowl’s Slytherin.” 

Hermione looked serious. “Now don’t feel badly if nothing takes, Harry, there doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason to who’s got it beyond the direct links we can find in the pedigree analysis.”

“I’ll be mortally offended if Ravenclaw’s hair pin blows me off,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he waited for Bill to pick up the case and pricked himself, drawing enough blood at the start to get a few drops at once. “Got it?” 

“I’ve done this about three hundred times, really,” Bill said. 

Harry reached his hand over and felt warmth, which meant that at least _something_ wasn’t too keen on him, but he let his blood fall onto each of the objects, then stood back as Bill put the lid down. 

“Excellent,” Hermione said a moment later, with some degree of satisfaction.

Harry paused. “It looks like a red explosion in there.”

“No, look,” she said, lifting the lid away and casting the biocleaning charm again. Harry’s blood was gone from the necklace, comb, and box, but the single drop had rolled down to the center of the bowl and was just sitting there, doing absolutely nothing.

“Maybe you came by the Parseltongue honestly, mate,” Bill teased. “Come over here so I can get another few vials from you. And see who you can round up at Hogwarts for an hour or two in London, Hermione’s got a few leads.”

Harry obligingly let Bill take more of his blood, still a little baffled, and followed Hermione to a series of humming wooden trunks with freezing charms cast on them.

“Here’s everyone we’ve tested who’s no good,” Hermione said. “Er, in terms of being a match. I’m sure they’re good people.”

Harry snorted. “That’s a lot, at least.”

“Slytherin’s actually a bit less valuable, it’s all over the place and we’ve found loads of people with it,” Hermione said, opening the second trunk to show vials of blood with green bands. She added Harry’s. 

“So very shocking,” Thaxia said. “Utterly.”

“So much for all that keeping it in the family,” Bill remarked.

“Well, yes, but it means we’ve probably got a lot of lineages, which means different sorts of magic mixed in, which is good,” she said. 

“Gryffindor’s nearly as bad,” she said, closing the Slytherin trunk and opening another, which had red vials.

“We’re so-so here,” she said, opening the Hufflepuff trunk, which was about half as full as the others.

She sighed. “But the one we need the most is, of course, the one we’ve got the least of. Three of those are Fleur, Victorie, and Dominique.” 

The Ravenclaw chest probably only had ten vials or so; Harry could have done a count, if he’d wanted to.

“Well, it’ll have to do,” he said. “Maybe McGonagall’s right about Pansy and she’s got four hundred cousins or something, I don’t know.”

“It’s not just the volume, Harry, it’s the homogeneity of the source,” Hermione said.

Harry looked at Bill, who stuck his feet up on the table.

“Hogwarts gets all this power from magical diversity, right? Everyone’s good at something, everyone’s bad at something else, you’ve got parselmouths and metamorphmagi and veela, who knows. If you could look at magic as one of those godawful abstract muggle paintings with just the colors, everyone’s would be completely different,” he said.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

“So we don’t have the original blood and we don’t have the thousand years of magic from witches and wizards that fed into the castle,” Atticus said. “We have to get as many sources as possible.”

“Slytherin, we’ve got a solid mix,” Bill said. “Gryffindor too. Hufflepuff’s not exactly in steady supply, but Fleur’s checked and the lineages are different enough that she thinks we have enough. But Ravenclaw…”

“A third of our Ravenclaw sample is from one family,” Hermione said. “And the rest isn’t much better.”

“Well,” Harry said. “Get McGonagall’s consent and theirs and test anyone over sixteen at Hogwarts. You don’t need them, just their blood. And, what, St. Mungo’s has a blood bank, hasn’t it? Have we tried them?”

“The consent gets sticky,” Hermione said. “Mostly, their consent forms state that it’s to be used in transfusions.”

“Surely you can send out a survey,” Harry said. “The donor registry can’t be private.”

Hermione frowned, but she was biting the corner of her mouth. “Actually, there might be a way around that,” she said. “I believe in recent years they’ve been asking for research authorization – it’s all anonymous, but it’s the sort of anonymous where it’s keyed to a number and the number’s keyed to a person, we could test their blood for research and then ask specific permission if we get any hits.”

“There you go,” Harry said.

“I haven’t figured out how to get it into the wards yet, though,” Hermione, admitted. “We can’t take, I don’t know, pints of the stuff from people, and I’ve no idea how to cover Ravenclaw tower in blood without obliviating half the wizarding population.”

Thaxia snorted. “Are you a witch or not?”

“Thank you for the reminder,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “First year. Excellent times nearly losing my life to plants.”

“You got a bloody NEWT in Transfiguration _and_ Charms, I can’t believe you haven’t thought,” Harry said. “Look, you don’t need Hogwarts. You just need something to _be_ Hogwarts. Like a chalice. Or –“

“A model,” Hermione breathed, her face lighting up. “We can build a model, mimic the wards, someone can cast the Forbidden Forest magic in as well, that’s brilliant, Harry!” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It’ll take a lot of power, but with us and Pansy and Malfoy and McGonagall –“ 

“Hullo, I said it, before you go running off with all these modeling ideas,” Thaxia muttered.

“Yes, thank you, Anathaxia, I am a witch,” Hermione said, laughing. “All right. At least we’ve got something to start from. I’ll go to St. Mungo’s.”

“Or, possibly, we could owl Fleur, who’s already _at_ St. Mungo’s,” Bill said. “Novel idea, really.”

“Shut up,” Hermione said, but she ran to a desk, starting to rummage.

“I think that’s my cue,” Harry said, laughing. “But let me know how it goes, all right?”

“Absolutely,” Bill said, suddenly serious. “We know how bad it is. How bad it might get. I might make fun, but I haven’t forgotten that. None of us have, Harry.”

“If she gets too serious, she turns into a book,” Harry said, grinning, and threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, spinning back to McGonagall’s office.

The rest of Harry’s afternoon was taken up with reporting back to McGonagall and marking all the fifth year essays, the majority of which actually _weren’t_ rubbish. When he checked the map, Pansy was back in the Restricted Section and Draco was in the greenhouses. He contemplated finding one of them, but Thaxia was already yawning. He hadn’t exactly gotten much sleep.

He found dinner waiting in his rooms and fell asleep reading a book on remedial potion making, because he really did owe it to Draco to start pulling his weight in the dungeons –

He woke to Thaxia on his chest, her claws digging into him so tightly they were drawing blood. He knew instantly that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, like he was trying to breathe in a vacuum. He realized suddenly that every light he’d left lit had gone out. His magic was still there, but something told Harry it would be a very, very bad idea to cast anything. In the darkness, there was no moonlight filtering down through the water. Tonight was the complete new moon. He gripped his wand tightly, pushing the portrait open, and even without much light he could see that his siren and every other portrait had abandoned their frames. The anti-magic field of the hallway felt a little better, but he could hear something laughing, laughter Harry shouldn’t have been able to hear, and it crawled down his spine and made him tremble.

He wrenched open Draco and Pansy’s portrait, trying to see in the dark, and thank god, the lantern from Pansy’s office was glowing in the middle of the room, but it was grey, casting darker shadows on everything. Draco was in a pair of pajama pants and Pansy was in a dressing gown, and they both stared at him for a moment before they lowered their wands.

“Potter,” Pansy said, and he could see that her hand was openly shaking.

“Something is wrong,” Thaxia managed. “Something is out there.”

“Something is _coming_ ,” Lethe said, all her fur on end, her pupils narrowed to slits.

“I think it’s the tunnel behind my rooms,” Harry said, but speaking was hard, like there wasn’t enough air, like he was too afraid.

“The barrier wards down the dungeons and to trap the children in,” Draco said. “Trip them. _Now_.”

“What if someone’s out –“ Pansy said, and Harry unrolled the map that he’d managed to grab off his desk.

“Nothing,” he said. “No one. Do it.”

Pansy pulled a box down from the shelf. An identical one had been given to every Professor, the Head Boy and Girl, and the prefects. She closed her eyes and felt her way through the slots, mouthing numbers and shapes. She’d done the same thing he had, Harry realized: memorized by shape and feel instead of color.

“This one,” she said, pulling out a circular piece of glass, so thin Harry could barely see through it, and though he couldn’t see the color, he knew it was green.

“ _Do_ it,” Draco hissed, and Pansy looked at her wand for a moment before throwing it at the floor.

They all flinched at the sound, the sudden rush of magic, but a sudden shudder of relief ran through Harry: the children were safe.

Pansy pulled a second, larger piece of glass out of the box, a sphere filled with glowing liquid, though it was so faint in the darkness that Harry couldn’t believe it was meant to look like a will ‘o the wisp. He’d made the keys to the dungeons himself.

Pansy looked at the map again, then at Harry.

“There’s no one,” she repeated, quietly. “It’s only us.” 

“Break it,” Harry said. “Break it, Pansy.”

“We could get help –“ she said.

“No,” Draco said, grimly. “We cannot let it into the castle.”

“It will kill them, Pansy,” Harry said, flatly. “It will kill anyone it finds, everyone it finds, and no one is going to get here in time.”

Pansy threw the globe at the floor, and there was the briefest flash of foxfire before it went out, fire that should have burned for days. The castle settled, as if into a sigh, and Harry heard it again, that high-pitched laughter, followed by a voice that crept into his bones, whispering in his ear as if someone had cupped their hand around it. It was as tender as a lover’s caress, but the opposite, somehow, the opposite of everything Harry had ever loved, and he ground his teeth down again against the sensation.

_Come out, come out, wherever you are…._

“Well, now we’re trapped in here with it,” Pansy said. “What do you propose we do?”

“Kill it before it kills us,” Kitcaron said, flatly.

“We’re going hunting,” Draco said, heading back toward the bedroom. Pansy ducked into another doorway, and it felt like an eternity before they both emerged, dressed and silent. Draco strapped a hunting knife to his leg, and Pansy tucked a second wand into her sleeve.

“The lantern, Potter,” Draco said, finally. “It won’t go out.” He laughed, a very hollow sound. “It’s set to the phases of the moon.”

Pansy pushed open the portrait, and they climbed out, Draco watching behind until the latch clicked, profoundly loud in the darkness.

“It got through the traps, or it came in through a tunnel we haven’t set yet,” Draco said.

“It came in through the traps,” Harry said, eyes on the long, dark hallway ahead of them.

“Through…” Pansy said, then flinched when she realized the implication.

“We ought to have left yours broken,” Draco said. “A ghost, Potter?”

“Nothing nearly so good,” Harry said, quietly. “I don’t – know what it is, exactly, but the list is limited, and everything I can think of is very, _very_ bad.”

“Quiet,” Pansy hissed, and Harry heard laughter again, Thaxia gripping so hard he could feel the blood running down his shoulders.

 _Some_ thing _wi_ cked _this way comes…._

It was cold, so cold, horrifically cold, and Harry thought that if it was possible, he might die of fear. It was not a feeling he’d _felt_ before, but the dull reflection in Pansy’s eyes told him it was getting to all of them. Tears were running down her cheeks.

“The third,” Lethe said, suddenly. “It’s in the third.” She growled, low and vicious. “I can smell it, hear it, I want to _taste_ it –“ 

Harry watched Kit’s fur along his spine rise, saw him crouch and growl, and Thaxia was breathing hard against his neck.

_Children, little children, won’t you come out and play…_

“Potter,” Draco said, flatly. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Harry winced, spitting to clear his mouth. “I know what it is. And she eats daemons.”

“Like a dementor,” Pansy said, tentatively. “We’ve all – we’ve all dealt with dementors.”

“No,” Harry said, flatly. “She _eats_ them.”

Pansy whirled around and was sick. 

“Is there anything?” Draco said, finally.

“The killing curse,” Harry said. “She’s alive enough to be put down. But it’s – you can’t put enough power behind it, one of us isn’t enough. All of us casting simultaneously wouldn’t be enough. We need a power source, and we haven’t got one.”

“I thought –“ Pansy said, then cleared her throat. “Avada kedavra kills everything. And if it’s undead, it won’t work.”

“She’s alive enough,” Harry said, grimly. “She’s stolen enough life to be clinging to the edge. They like their daemons… young.”

_I can play a counting game, can you play a counting game, hide and I’ll find you… one, two, three…_

“Avada kedavra,” Draco said, rolling the words around in his mouth.

“You don’t understand,” Harry said, and it was getting colder. “We don’t have enough power.”

Draco’s smile in the lantern glow was feral, predatory. “Oh, but we do,” he said. “Potter, what are the base magics, the elementals.”

“Birth,” Harry said. “Death. Blood. Sex. Daemons.” 

“Well,” Draco said. “We’ve got up to four of the five. It’s old magic, Potter. It looks different, feels different, but the power in it…” He tilted his head back. “It could work.”

Pansy brushed herself off, gripping the second wand, white-knuckled. “It’s going to have to work,” she said. “And we’ve got three of the five, darling. No one’s dying tonight.”

“What else, Potter,” Draco said, low.

“She’s playing,” Harry said. “Only trust what you can feel with your hands. And if she can lure a daemon out, she will. They’ll go half mad with blood lust if we get any closer. Or lust. I’m not sure it matters.”

_You’ve been hiding far too long…_

“Stay or go?” Draco said.

 _You’re not playing a_ nice _game… you’re not playing a_ fair _game, you really ought to come out_ …

“Go,” Pansy said, quietly, as if she knew something they didn’t. “We have to move.”

_I will find you, I will show you, oh, I will show you anything you like…_

Harry took an unsteady step towards the door that lead to the hallway with access to the third passage, and Lethe and Kitcaron nearly shoved him out of the way, low and hunting. Draco and Pansy ducked through silently, and Harry held the lantern up, revealing the length of the corridor. 

“That door,” Pansy said, swallowing. “Through that door.”

_Are you afraid now? You know I wouldn’t hurt you…_

The closer they got, the worse Harry felt, until they’d cleared the length of the corridor. Frost was forming around the edges of the door then thawing, dripping down in the darkness, and it was far too dark to just be water.

_I can hear you, just a little closer, you know the rules… will you run from me, little children?_

“This is not going to be pleasant,” Harry said, and jerked open the door.

She was at the end of the hallway, a beautiful woman, the most beautiful he’d ever seen, but she was _wrong_ , with no daemon and no soul.

“ _Come here_ ,” she whispered. “ _Come here, little ones, just a little closer…_ ”

“No way in hell,” Pansy said, and spat between them.

“ _YOU HAVE SOMETHING I WANT_ ,” she roared, and Pansy’s barrier charm was suddenly the only thing between them. She’d come down the length of the tunnel in seconds. The daemons threw themselves at it, until Harry grabbed Thaxia, kicking and fighting, scruffing her to keep her tight against his chest. Up close, the spirit was nothing like the vision in the distance. She was horror itself, with flesh falling off her skull, the muscles of her jaw rotting away as she screamed.

“ _MINE, THEY ARE MINE, I WILL TAKE WHAT IS MINE!_ ”

Draco sliced his palm open, murmuring something under his breath in Latin, and Pansy’s wand glowed for a moment before it plunged back into darkness, and the laughter, Harry thought the laughter might drive him out of his mind.

“ _YOU THINK YOU CAN PLAY WITHOUT THE RULES_ ,” she screamed. “ _CHEATERS, LIARS, THIEVES, LIGHT-BRINGERS, SOUL STEALERS, GIVE ME WHAT IS MINE!_ ”

“Sex or daemons,” Draco said, then paused. “Sex _and_ daemons. A novel option. Potter, give Pansy Thaxia.”

“I really don’t think –“ Harry said, teeth chattering.

“Lethe won’t work well enough, I assure you,” Draco said, flatly. “And that shield isn’t going to hold forever.”

“I don’t really think…” Harry said.

“ _Give her Thaxia_ ,” Draco snarled, and Pansy stared at the thing through the broken glass reflection of the barrier.

“Draco,” Pansy said, softly. 

“Look,” Draco said. “We are all going to _die_ , I don’t care what your fucking Gryffindor morals are or if you’re taking his side –“

“I’m not arguing with him, I’m doing something,” Pansy said. “Harry, give me your hand.” She turned, meeting his eyes. “Trust me. And believe what you can touch.”

She reached, pushing Thaxia off his shoulder, and it was odd, so odd, an intimacy so foreign Harry didn’t have a name for it, at least until Draco reached out to catch her on instinct. Then Harry’s knees buckled and there was nothing else, _nothing_ , as all the warmth suddenly came flooding back into his body.

“Harry?” Thaxia said, groggily, and Harry groped in the darkness for Lethe with his free hand, burying it in the soft, silken fur at the nape of her neck. Draco was staring, meeting his eyes, holding his daemon.

“Draco,” Harry said, and that was all he could manage before Draco cradled Thaxia against his chest, lifted a bloody palm to Harry’s cheek, and Harry pulled him down and kissed him hard.

He could breathe again but he couldn’t, gasping for air between kisses, frantic and heated and messy, wanting to _take_ him, Draco pulling him closer with just a hand on his jaw, Lethe pushing them together with a growl that indicated a very different sort of hunt. In the background, he could hear screaming, an endless litany that was slowly degrading in coherence:

“ _MINE MINE YOU CANNOT HAVE THEM THEY ARE MINE MINE THOSE ARE NOT THE RULES THAT CHILDREN PLAY BY THOSE ARE NOT THE RULES CHEATERS LIARS THEY ARE MINE!_ ”

“No,” Harry said, against Draco’s mouth, “ _mine_ ,” and drew Draco up in another kiss, Thaxia crushed between them, Lethe shoving them together with all her weight, and through it all, Harry kept his grip on Pansy’s hand.

“I’m going to drop the barrier,” she said, voice steady, and Harry didn’t care, nothing else mattered but Draco’s mouth on his own and their bodies pressed together, and the heat, the way Draco’s fingers felt in Thaxia’s fur, as if he was touching places Harry had never even _seen_ , never even known _existed_ -

It was cold again, briefly, such a quick flash that Harry hardly noticed. He was warm. Draco was warm.

“Avada kedavra,” Pansy said, enunciating every syllable with perfect clarity, and the words poured through Harry, burning inside of his mouth, and then – then –

Then, it was over.

“Oh, my God,” Draco said, faintly, and stepped backwards hard, nearly knocking over Pansy, and when he saw what was at their feet he covered his mouth and doubled over, turning away before he started retching.

“The barrier charms,” Harry said, finally, still dizzy. “They’ll be trying to get in –“

Pansy’s lips were starting to blister, and her voice was so hoarse Harry could hardly hear her. 

“Down,” she murmured, staring at him.

“It’s all right, it’s all right, I’m here,” Kit said, winding around her legs, pushing his head up into her hand frantically.

Thaxia was nuzzling Harry and making urgent noises, breath warm against his face, and Harry held her and breathed, in and out, until his heart rate finally started to slow.

“You _bitch_ ,” Draco said, finally, voice like a slap out of nowhere, and Harry whipped his head up to look at him. Pansy was already watching.

“Draco –“ she forced out.

“Oh, no,” he said, his voice dripping venom. “You thought that was all right? For either of us?” 

He took a step forward until there were only inches between them. “’You’ve got secrets,’” he mocked, cutting. “’I want to know them.’”

“I didn’t –“

“That was not your choice,” Draco snarled. “You don’t get to _make those choices for me_.”

“Draco,” she said, finally, tears streaming down her face again, but she looked furious too, “I’m not prioritizing this mess over our _lives_.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry said, sharply. He didn’t understand the conversation, except to know that it was vicious, in a moment when it oughtn’t have been.

“You,” Draco said, turning to face him. “You – what, you thought it would just be all right –“ 

Harry met his gaze, even. “I’ve no idea what this is about, but if you thought I’d say anything about being interested, I’m human and I’m not a masochist,” he said. “You’re both married.”

“Sort of,” Draco said.

Harry took a step forward. “I’m tired of that,” he said. “You’re married or you’re not, you’re together or you’re not, and you can tell me a thousand times it’s a contract, but then you look at me like this and she flirts like that and I’ve no idea whether it’s some goddamned Slytherin joke that I’m not in on, or just a secret no one thinks I’m good enough to know.”

“It’s not like that,” Draco repeated, but his voice was less steady.

“Pietas super omnia,” Harry said, cold. “ _Super omnia_ , Malfoy. I gathered there was something to that.” He took another step forward. “So tell me again what I ought not to have done.”

“McGonagall’s coming,” Pansy rasped, suddenly, and Draco turned on his heel.

“I know how it got in,” he said, flatly. “I’m going to go fix it before something worse shows up.”

“Draco,” Pansy said.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he snapped, and slammed the door behind him.

“Well,” Harry said, a moment later, staring at the wreckage in front of them.

That was how McGonagall and Martingale found them, Pansy pale with shock and Harry’s mouth tight with anger about something he didn’t entirely understand.

“My God,” McGonagall said, with a hand to her mouth. Then Hermione and Ron shoved through the doorway, running to him, slamming into him. He caught them with one arm and finally held out a hand to Pansy, reaching around Hermione, pulling her into the warmth of their circle.

“Her too,” he said, softly. “Her too.”

McGonagall burned the remains with fire so hot it glowed white, until even the ash caught on fire and burned. Harry watched the dust blow away.

“I’ve heard of – one, maybe,” Harry said, later, in front of her fireplace, over a very large glass of scotch. Ron and Hermione had taken one look at Pansy’s mouth and throat and dragged her to the Potions dungeon for Draco’s personal stash of healing Potions. It was all right, Harry thought. He trusted them. “A sihuehuet, a siguanaba,” he said. “They call them a lot of things in different places.” He laughed, taking a long swallow of scotch. “I suppose we ought to be grateful I was looking through texts for Latin America for spring, though obviously I wouldn’t have brought one of those into the castle.” He paused, thoughtfully. Everything seemed very far away. “I do hope someone checked on the sharks.”

“We owe you a tremendous debt, Harry,” McGonagall said, quietly. “Though I think you may be in shock. We can talk about it in the morning.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Professor, I’m not sure I’m going to want to, and the details don’t matter,” he said, finally. “Pansy killed it.”

“Do you think we should send the students home?”

Harry laughed. “Well,” he said, trying not to laugh. “Maybe we ought to ask The Hat.”

“Go to bed, Harry,” McGonagall said, with a faint smile, rummaging in a cabinet for a moment before she pressed a bottle of firewhiskey into his hands. “Be with your friends.”

Harry didn’t particularly want to go back to the dungeons, but the torches were lit and people were about, seventh years walking the hallways with professors. The portraits had mostly returned. Though Draco and Pansy’s centaur was still gone, the frame was cracked. 

Hermione met him at the door. Ron and Pansy were on the couch, Ron pressed against her side, doing some dramatic impersonation that had her laughing, though she stopped when Harry walked in. Maybe, Harry thought, Ron had moved on some since the war, too. The spot Hermione had abandoned was obvious – Atticus was on the floor, preening Kit’s fur while Tiphaine curled into a tight ball against his haunches, resting her red muzzle on his back. She looked at him without saying anything, and at the sight of her familiar irish setter form, Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I’m not entirely sure what happened down there, but she’s a wreck,” Hermione murmured. “And he still hasn’t come back.”

“I know,” Harry said. “He won’t, I think.”

He pulled her in for a long, hard hug, burying his face in her hair. Hermione kept her voice light, but it was shaking. “I don’t know what it is about you and this castle,” she said. “But if you wouldn’t mind avoiding nearly getting killed on a regular basis, I think your godchildren would appreciate it.”

“You know, I’d really prefer that,” Harry said, and set down the bottle of firewhiskey.

Ron was suddenly behind him, crushing him between them in another hug, but Harry found himself looking at Pansy.

“Do you think –“ Harry said, clearing his throat. “Do you think you might give us a bit to talk? My rooms are just down the hall.”

“His password is ‘faith,’” Pansy said, voice still rough and rasping but much better than it was.

“Yes, of course,” Hermione said, and Ron looked like he was about to say something, but he shook his head and thought better of it.

“She’s not so bad,” he said, with a wink for Pansy. “Killing demons and looking like that after.”

“Careful, Ron,” Hermione warned, but there was no bite to it. “Don’t flirt with Slytherins, they’ll flirt back.”

“I rather think she started it,” Ron teased, glancing over Harry’s shoulder at Pansy.

“Yes, that’s exactly what she wants you to think, scoundrel,” Hermione said, with a smile for Pansy and a glance at Harry. “That’s how they hook you, you know. Being smart and kind and brave and fanciable.”

“Why, Hermione, you’ve never said, we should really discuss this further,” Ron joked, with a wave as they ducked out the portrait.

“Well, I’m still really pissed off, but there’s time for that,” Harry said, and he crossed the room and gathered her in his arms for a long moment. Thaxia ran to groom Kit’s face a little frantically, as if she could make everything all right again.

“Oh, Harry,” Pansy sighed, and he cupped her face and kissed her forehead.

“You were brilliant,” he said, softly. “So brilliant, Pansy. So brave.”

Her lips still looked sunburned, but Harry suspected the tear she wiped away didn’t have much to do with the pain.

“Brilliant would probably have thought a bit more about that plan,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

“I’d rather be alive,” Harry said, simply. “There are things you can fix and things you can’t, and being dead’s rarely one of them. Though don’t think you get some sort of free pass. You’ve both lied to me, I think, and I don’t keep with that sort of thing.”

“No,” Pansy said, slowly. “Well, no, not that we haven’t lied, but that you wouldn’t. Would you understand if I said I was trying to protect something?”

“Possibly,” Harry said. “But you’re going to have to talk to me.” He looked her square in the face. “No charming me out of it, no flirting, no sliding around hard subjects, a real conversation, Pansy. I’d rather have it with both of you, but I don’t suspect he’s in any place to talk yet.”

“No,” Pansy said, wrapping her hands more tightly around her tea mug. “I suppose I owe you that much, though I don’t know if any of it –“ She choked back a laugh, sounding like she was on the verge of breaking down. “Harry, I’m not certain any of it makes sense to anyone, least of all us.” 

“Try me,” Harry said, simply.

“We got married when we were seventeen,” Pansy said. “And yes, the contract’s a form of marriage, but you get prickly about it when your marriage isn’t much of a marriage, really.”

“All right,” Harry said. “I’m listening.”

“I love him,” she said, honestly. “I’m in love with him. He’s my best friend. My partner. But there are things we’ve never been able to work out.”

“I’m not going to judge you,” Harry said, finally, anger slowly fading.

“I don’t know if he feels the same way, or if he thinks something entirely different, and the fact that I can’t ask –“ She laughed, hollow. “And the sex –“ She made a noise. “It’s not anything, Harry. If he were gay, if I weren’t attracted to him, if something made sense… but it’s awful. I mean…” She ran a hand through her hair. “We wanted each other so badly, in the beginning. I think we still do, really. But every time we’ve tried, it’s like fireworks and this crazy lust until it suddenly isn’t, and we’re both so – oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s nerves or baggage or maybe someone’s hexed us, I don’t know. But it’s so fucking good until it isn’t, and then it’s grit your teeth and lie back and think of England awful.” She laughed, bitterly. “Isn’t that stupid? All this intimacy and passion and devotion and we can’t even fix _that_. We stopped trying years ago, honestly. Every so often we’ll get drunk and think it’s a decent idea, but it never is.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Harry said, slowly. “A mess, maybe, but not stupid.”

“That night in the sitting room –“ Pansy said, with another bitter laugh. “He got so fucking jealous, and I was so… ready for it, and we both were so pissed off we forgot that we’re terrible at sex and _almost_ had some that was good.” She managed a wry smile. “Of course, I don’t think it went so well in the morning when we both realized it was because we’d been thinking about the wrong person.”

Harry snorted. “No, probably not,” he admitted.

“I’ve tried being with other people and he’s never claimed to care,” Pansy admitted. “I just – he said it was all right, and I wanted this thing that everyone’s supposed to have in their marriage, but it’s never worked. I can’t compare anyone to him, no one’s ever going to measure up. But I think we’re both going to go completely and utterly mad if we don’t figure this out, because I can’t live without that intimacy, I don’t think I can get it from anyone but him and even if I could, I’d still want it from him, and he can’t give it to me. And it’s not as if he’s in much better shape over it. Probably worse, if I’m honest. His father – god, what I’d give to shove a dagger in the back of Lucius Malfoy and get away with it.”

“Well,” Harry said. “In the interest of total disclosure, it’s not as if I’m easy about this sort of thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve fucked my fair share of strangers in bars, but it’s never what I’m looking for. And Ginny… we ought to have been perfect for one another, you know? But we weren’t, and we both knew it, and the more we tried to make it work, the worse it got, until we couldn’t any more. But I’m not –“ Harry shook his head. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s the same situation. It wasn’t. The sex was about _all_ we were any good at.” 

“You kissed him,” Pansy said, finally, a little tentatively.

“I did,” Harry said. “And if I didn’t think it would be an utterly rotten move, I’d kiss you, too, just to even out the score.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Please don’t ask me how I went from years of never seeing anything I liked to suddenly finding two people I’m crazy about, but you’re different. You’ve never treated me as if I’m special for something I did before I could walk. And I think I need to get close before I get attracted, though I suppose that sort of thinking leads to things like Ginny.”

He propped his head in his hand. “You’re stubborn and a complete flirt and every time you start in with that, I want to show you what an awful idea it is to mess with me.” He laughed. “And smart and funny and kind and _stupidly_ attractive, although I’ve never cared about the last bit much.” He smiled. “Although you ought to know, that grey set of robes ought to be sent to Azkaban and burned, it’s that unfair.”

Pansy flushed. “And – Draco?”

“You know all the reasons I like Draco,” he said. “Although maybe there are a few that you don’t. But I think I ought to tell those to him.”

“Well,” Pansy said, finally. “This is, for lack of a better word, a total fuck up.”

“You probably ought to know,” Harry said, considering. “I like you, and I like him, but the two of you together, it’s better. I don’t think I’d want half of it. And if that makes me screwed up, well, I believe a witch once married a toaster, so I think I’m far from the worst out there.”

Pansy laughed, then shook her head. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve just said nicer things to me than anyone has in years other than him. I’m his, and he’s mine, no matter how messy it is. I’ve no idea what that means about _you_ , but I don’t think we’re going to find any solutions in one of us running off with you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t take either of you alone, so that’s all right,” Harry said, with a smile.

“You said alone,” Pansy said, curiously.

“Don’t think I’m going to fix you,” Harry warned. “And don’t think it’s going to fix it to try to add me to something that’s screwed up.” He smiled, finally. “But I’ve lived with Hermione for almost twenty years. If I’m not any good at getting people to talk about hard things by now, she ought to disown me. And something tells me you haven’t been talking.”

“No,” Pansy admitted. “We’re good at it with everything else. But sex? I get pissed off, and he gets embarrassed, and it’s just – we can’t.”

“Well, you’re going to have to, I think,” Harry said. “And if that doesn’t work, Thaxia can just bite everyone.”

“Damn straight,” Thaxia murmured, from where she was curled with Kit.

“I know where he is,” Harry said, finally. “And my gut says if we give him a chance to put all the walls back up, we’re going to get the world’s coldest and most perfectly composed Malfoy tomorrow morning, and it’s never going to get anywhere.”

“No,” Pansy agreed, finally. “Though cornering him when he’s hurt and angry is a relatively risky proposition.”

“What’s he going to do, eat Thaxia?” Harry said, somewhat dryly. He leaned to kiss her cheek. “Could work things out some, could go down in flames, but I’ll let you call it.”

“Please tell me he’s somewhere warm,” Pansy said, with a sigh.

“Sort of,” Harry said. “But I think I can make that better. I’m quite good at camping, you know.”

“You’d never say,” Pansy said, laughing.

“Let me tell Ron and Hermione to go home and to get some things, okay?” Harry said. “You put on something warm and comfortable.”

“That’s rubbish,” Pansy said, looking a bit stubborn. “You men have no idea how clothes and shoes and make up can be for yourself.”

“And with you, they’re walls,” Harry said, gently. “But I doubt anyone’s going to notice if you’d like to fix your mascara and put on lipstick. Or at least, Kit and Thaxia won’t say anything. And yes, you’re staying, Thaxia.”

“I knew that already,” Thaxia said. “Please don’t get eaten by anything.”

Harry packed a bag, stopping by the infirmary for more potions for Pansy, and finally grabbed his broomstick and went to get her. She was bundled up with a coat and scarves, pacing.

“Down this,” he said. “Fresh batch from the Restricted Section of potions, I doubt Hermione thought to look there. It repairs damage to your throat if you happen to smoke anything stupid.”

“Just channeled a hell of a lot of magic through a wand that wasn’t mine,” Pansy said, downing it then coughing furiously as black smoke poured out of her mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , Potter,” she managed, finally, but her voice was more even. “That was even worse than what Granger and Weasley gave me.”

“Why’d you use a different wand?” Harry said, gesturing to the door. She followed him up.

“It’s a Malfoy heirloom,” she said. “And it rather likes casting very dark magic. I’ve been researching it.” She snorted. “Wouldn’t you know, the thing likes me. It won’t work for Draco.”

“I’d say the wand chooses the witch, but in this case, I think the wand chooses the casting power,” Harry pointed out. “You know, I talked to Ollivander once, years ago. He said sometimes a wand would just stop working. Refuse its owner. He said every time it had happened in memory, they’d brought it in, it had gone back on the shelves, and another one had wanted them.” He shrugged. “You might think about replacing your original next time you’re in Diagon. Or just use that one, it’s not as if it’s going to turn you into a Dark Witch.”

“You’re just distracting me,” Pansy murmured, but Harry had gotten them past the greenhouses. “We’ll take the broom. Kit and Thaxia can stay below. It’s not the safest, but we’re near the edge of the forest, against the lake.”

“And you’re sure?” Pansy said.

“Very sure,” Harry replied.

He’d hardly had time for flying lately, but it wasn’t as if he’d ever not known how, and he went over the wall and over the lake. The stars reflected out over the still water, unmasked by the darkness of the hidden moon. Harry kicked the broom down, just a few feet over the water.

“You’ll have to find Lethe,” he told Thaxia and Kit, who was curled around Kit’s neck like a stole, and she nipped him fondly.

“There’s a path, idiot,” she said. “He didn’t think to hide it again.”

“You’re still going to follow it straight to her,” Harry said, laughing softly. “And then shut up for a while, okay? Both of you.”

“Silent as the grave,” Thaxia said, then made a face. “Silent as something that’s very alive and well but being silent.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. Thaxia rode Kit to the garden gate, where she climbed down. Harry left his broom and cloak just inside, reaching for Pansy’s hand and heading toward the arbor.

“Which one of you is it?” Draco said, flatly, from inside, where Harry couldn’t see him.

“Both, actually,” Harry said.

“Lovely,” Draco said, and Harry ducked underneath the curtain of vines, tugging Pansy with him. There were hundreds of tiny glowing orbs, floating all through the air where they’d let go of the vine itself, and he laughed with sudden delight in spite of himself, reaching out to touch one. Draco was slumped against the furthest part of the arbor, with a bottle of whiskey beside him, but it was unopened. Thaxia found Lethe, who was lying on the flagstones, watching the flowers. Harry watched them twine together, Kit slipping in beneath them, then started unpacking.

“It’s refilling from the kitchen,” he said, pulling out a thermos of cocoa and pouring it into three glasses, and then added a generous amount of fire whiskey to each. He tossed the duvet from his bed down, casting a cushioning charm beneath it, and threw in a few pillows and some warming charms.

“Go on,” he said to Pansy, sitting down himself. “It’s sort of like a bed.”

“It’s nothing like a bed,” Pansy retorted, but she was looking up at the flowers, reaching out a hand to catch one. It unfolded slowly, leaving a glowing seed in her palm.

“Sit,” Harry said, firmly, and when Pansy did, with a sigh, he sank down next to her and found Draco glaring at them.

“What is this, some sort of camping party?” he demanded. “Cocoa and blankets, Potter? Really?”

“Shut up,” Pansy said. “He said he thinks he can help us. I mean – you and me. And then -”

“Oh, delightful,” Draco interrupted. “Gryffindor counseling while camping in the lack of moonlight, just what I’ve always wanted.”

“Draco,” Pansy said.

“Really, I mean it,” he said. “It sounds utterly fabulous. I’m sure Potter will fix everything and we’ll all live happily ever after and there will probably be red and gold streamers at the wedding.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Pansy said, finally, getting to her feet, and Harry realized with a start that she was pointing her wand at Draco. “You pretend you don’t care, but you do, and when it matters, you pull it all around you like the fact that you’ve never let anyone through doesn’t matter at all, and I’ve had it with all of it. You know how good I am at Imperius, Draco, you know this wand likes it, is that what it’s going to take to get you to stop running scared?”

“You know,” Harry said, mildly. “I just want to state for the record that I tried cocoa and alcohol before Unforgiveables.” 

“Go ahead, make me,” Draco said, and Harry finally decided he’d about had it with both of them.

“Anathaxia,” he said, and a minute later Draco swore, far less elegantly, and held up a palm that was dripping with blood, staring at her.

“I told you I hadn’t made my mind up on biting professors, and I _certainly_ don’t have any moral quandaries regarding people who are being utter prats.”

“Pansy, I’ll let her do you next if you don’t put the bloody wand away,” Harry said, through gritted teeth, and she glared at him before sinking back down.

“Wands,” he said, finally, holding out his hand. “ _Both_ of them, Pansy.”

Pansy turned hers over, and he turned to Draco with an expectant look, but he was still glaring. 

“ _Wand_ ,” Harry said, in a term he usually reserved for Weasleys and idiotic students, and Draco finally gave it to him. Harry tucked them into a pocket in his bag.

“Whose side are you supposed to be on?” Draco muttered, and Harry looked upward at the arbor.

“I’m _not_ ,” he said. “Did you even hear a word she said?”

“Yes,” Draco said, finally. “No. I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re doing here, I don’t know why Pansy doesn’t seem to want to sort this out in the dueling wing like usual, and I’m frankly unsure what you’re supposed to be helping with, aside from perhaps getting everyone drunk.”

“It might be a decent start,” Harry said, dryly. “You haven’t a single thing you want to talk about from tonight? Not one?”

“Not really, no,” Draco said. “I’d rather not.”

“Well,” Harry said, “I’m not going to force you, but I think you’ve been choosing ‘rather not’ for a decade, and it’s not doing you any favors.”

“Draco,” Pansy said, and there was the barest note of desperation in her voice. “I know you don’t trust anyone, but – maybe he’s different. Maybe he could be different, just for tonight.”

“That’s not true,” Draco said, finally. “I trust you.”

“This is the part where I’m really going to fall down on counseling, so you’ll both have to deal with it, I’m calling you on your actions or lack thereof,” Harry said, flatly. “Because I’ve got to tell you, from an outside point of view, you’ve done an utterly rubbish job of showing or communicating that.”

“I didn’t think I _had_ to,” Draco said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” Harry said. “I don’t think it is.”

“Well,” Draco said. “I trust Pansy.”

“That’s far from good enough,” Harry said, settling in. Pansy was watching him.

Harry knew, somehow, that pushing Malfoy too hard and too fast would be worse than not pushing at all, so he gave it a few minutes, letting them both drink the cocoa before he poured another round.

“Draco,” he said, finally. “Why’d you marry her? And don’t tell me it’s a contract.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said, the usual flippancy, and then sighed when he realized Harry was asking a real question. “It seemed – I don’t know.” He frowned at his mug. “It solved more problems than it created.”

“Oh, _that’s_ romantic,” Pansy muttered.

“You know I’m no good at that,” Draco said, flatly.

“Give him a minute,” Harry said, gently. “Draco, that’s the political answer. I want the other ones.”

“The other ones?” Draco said, then glanced at him. “The ones you’d give.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “The Gryffindor version.”

Draco snorted, but there wasn’t any real venom in it. “I don’t know,” he said again. “Honestly. I went through every possibility, and you were the best one, so I asked, and you said yes.”

“Why was I the best one?” Pansy said, quietly.

“God, I don’t _know_ ,” Draco said, again. “I saw you, I don’t know, four or five months after the Battle of Hogwarts. Diagon Alley, you know. I’ve no idea what you were doing there, I didn’t say hello. But you looked –“ He swallowed. “There was something about you I’d never seen before. You were eating ice cream on the patio with a friend, I think, and you tossed your head back and laughed, really laughed, and I realized I’d never seen you like that before. Not in seven years. And I thought about it and wondered what else I’d missed, what else I didn’t know, and then those few times we saw each other before I asked, there was just… something in you. You slipped a few times, out of what you thought I wanted, and there was all this power and all this potential, and I wanted more of that.” He swallowed. “I wanted – I thought maybe I could give someone else something, instead of just myself, that if I were using the Malfoy money for something, I might buy someone else a chance. And you were the only one who was _real_.”

He tilted his head and smiled, looking a little sad. “And I was right, wasn’t I? All of this, all of you – I won’t take credit, it was always there, but now that’s you all the time, not just when you slip up.”

“Well,” Pansy said, swirling her cocoa. “You deserve some credit, I suppose. You made me feel safe. Like I could be whomever I wanted. Do you remember –“ She laughed to herself. “That night your parents were in Paris and we went in and broke all the China? I think you’d meant to show me the manor, but we ended up in the dining room, and you said, ‘Oh, this, I don’t care about _this_ ,’ and I knew what you _meant_ , that you were so wealthy it didn’t matter and that was why I ought to like you, but it came out that you didn’t give a damn about two hundred year old plates, and we broke every last one.”

“That goddamned tea set, it wouldn’t shut up,” Draco finally said, laughing too.

“We were so, _extraordinarily_ drunk,” Pansy said, fondly.

“On each other,” Draco said, after a long pause. “A little. I think. Too.” 

“Yes,” Pansy said, simply. “That too.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Harry said, with a smile.

“Because I was stupidly in love with him, why do you think?” Pansy said, laughing.

“All right, why were you stupidly in love with him?” Harry said, grinning back.

“You ask all the worst questions, Potter,” Draco said, but he was flushed.

“I haven’t even gotten to those yet,” Harry said, dryly.

“Oh, great,” Draco said. “Pansy, did you really –“

“Because you were different, too,” Pansy interrupted. “Because you were just… in school, I don’t know, I thought you were like every other pureblood. But once you’d decided – I don’t know, whatever the hell you decided… you were different. You were awful, sometimes, and brilliant, sometimes, and just… you liked all these things I’d never known, like plants and potions and chocolate ice cream, and you were far less funny than you thought you were but there were times when you made me laugh so hard I cried, and you were always honest.”

Harry reached, to refill Pansy’s mug and his own. It really wasn’t his conversation.

“I wanted something else for myself,” she continued. “And I suppose they might have let me marry someone else, a Ravenclaw, maybe, they had some decent houses, but no one else got what it was that I wanted, and you did. And I thought there was enough of a chance that you might want the same thing that I was willing to risk it.”

“God, we had no idea,” Draco murmured, finally. “We were just children.”

“We were,” Pansy agreed. “Though I think we were older than we had any right to be.”

Draco finally stood, crossing to sit next to her.

“I’ve no idea where we screwed this up,” he admitted.

“Me either,” Pansy said, leaning against his side. “But it’s not as if I don’t love you with everything in me.”

“Me too,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’d rather have it be – wrong with you than right with anyone else.”

Pansy laughed. “Aside from Potter, apparently,” she said, but it was teasing.

“I meant it,” Harry cautioned. “About the both of you.”

“Great, you’ve been talking without me,” Draco said, dryly.

“You went and hid,” Pansy said, without any real bite to it.

“Do I even want to know?” Draco said.

“Yes, it was largely about sex,” Pansy said, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“ _Pansy_ ,” Draco hissed, and she laughed. “Come on,” she said. “How much worse could it _possibly_ get?”

“That’s private,” Draco said, firmly. 

“You shoving your tongue down Harry’s throat was most assuredly not private,” Pansy said, leaning back into the pillows. “Besides, he’s interested, and I suspect that if either of us wants to see what that looks like, we’re going to have to at least acknowledge that there’s something _there_.”

“There isn’t,” Draco said, firmly, glancing at Harry.

“Fidelity and loyalty aren’t the same thing,” Pansy said, fondly. “And I’m not really sure we’re talking about infidelity if we’re both interested in the same person.”

“I’m not, don’t say that,” Draco protested, again.

“Well, for the record, I am,” Harry said, honestly. “I told Pansy. And it takes a lot to get me interested, so don’t think that’s some simple thing or just about sex or god knows what else.”

“You are?” Draco said, sounding startled, and Pansy actually giggled.

“Subtle, darling,” she said. “Harry, I think this might be working, I’m finally warm. You ought to give me more.”

“Don’t blame me if you’re hungover as hell tomorrow,” Harry warned her, laughing, but he refilled her mug. “And yes, Draco, I am. But I told Pansy, the idea of splitting you two up isn’t going to work for me, so we’ll have to sort it out as the three of us or I’ll leave you be and we’ll stay friends.”

“What, some sort of threeway?” Draco said, incredulous, and Pansy finally dissolved into laughter.

“You’re so fucking traditional,” she said, fondly. “Yes, some sort of threeway, and I think Harry rather means it to be sort of a _lot_ of threeway, so it’s your call, but I vote that it’s at least worth talking about.”

“Yes, because we’re doing nowhere near enough talking, and now you want me to talk about my sex life with _Potter_ ,” Draco muttered, holding out his mug. “I’ll take hungover over this any night.”

“Oh, come on,” Pansy said, downing most of her mug in one gulp and cupping his face in her hands. “You’ve never once even looked at someone else, then there’s him.”

“We’re married, I can’t,” Draco said, slowly.

“You know, I rather think if your wife says you can, you can,” Pansy said. “And for the record, darling, don’t think I haven’t figured out how much sex matters to you and how insane you’re going from never having any that says what you want it to.” 

Draco flushed, looking at Harry again. “You’re sure we have to have this conversation here?”

“Yes,” Pansy said. “Because we’ve had it a thousand times ourselves and it’s gone nowhere, so I want to try with Harry.” She considered. “Also, quite possibly, because I’d like to try things _with_ Harry.”

“You know, Draco,” Harry said, laughing. “I have, actually, had a decent amount of sex. And I don’t mind talking about it. Well, at least not with you two.”

“I don’t want to hear about you with _other people_ ,” Draco said, sounding vaguely horrified, and Pansy snorted.

“He’s got a jealous streak,” she said. “You’d never know.”

“I do not mind talking about _sex in general_ ,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Or your sex life. Or theoretical sex with you two.”

“Is this a Gryffindor thing? The – extra people?” Draco said, then suddenly looked horrified. “All this time, did you and Granger and Weasley –“ 

“Yes, thank you, Rita Skeeter,” Harry said, finally a little irritated. “Draco, I can count on one hand the number of people I’ve really been interested in over the years, and you two are included in that number, for reasons I’m really beginning to question. _No_ , none of those people are Ron or Hermione.”

“Interesting,” Pansy said, propping her chin in a hand. “And those people in bars?”

“I’ve come to realize over the years that I’d rather not be having sex than be having sex without intimacy and affection,” Harry said, simply. “Sort of got to know myself, really.”

“Sex with us isn’t likely to involve all that much intimacy or affection,” Draco muttered, sounding a little bitter, and Harry let Pansy settle back against him. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “Pansy said it wasn’t that neither of you was interested, so somebody tell me where it goes wrong.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” Draco said, again, flushed, and Harry reached out to run a hand through his hair, casually.

“Thinking about you two together isn’t exactly some sort of hardship,” Harry pointed out, laughing softly. “Is it easier if you frame it that way?”

“No,” Draco said, flinching back a little, and Harry realized he was genuinely uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he said, gently. “I care. You know I care. You know I’ll keep my mouth shut. So tell me what doesn’t feel right here.”

Pansy cleared her throat. “I mean, aside from god knows what with the Lestranges, there’s _literally_ -“ She started to laugh. “Harry, there’s _literally_ a book on sex for women of my, shall we say, social standing, and I can assure you, it’s not the kama sutra. It’s all very behind closed doors missionary position with the lights out.”

“Well, that sounds like utter rubbish,” Harry said, and Draco turned away.

“He likes men too,” Pansy pointed out. “And we’ve never been like that. I mean – I don’t think we’re the sort of people who would be satisfied with… it being… textbook. And Lucius Malfoy threw him into a door when he found out the first part.”

“My father didn’t really understand the concept of bisexuality,” Draco said, finally. “He just thought I was gay. So when I told him, he backhanded me into a door. I don’t even remember everything he said.”

“Yes, you do,” Pansy said, softly.

“He said it was too bad, what I wanted, what I _thought_ I wanted, that purebloods didn’t take to that sort of thing. That I’d been mistaken, that he’d been too soft on me, that I’d get married and have children just like every other Malfoy. And if I couldn’t put it aside for the sake of the family, then I’d better keep my blood traitor mouth shut.”

Harry considered. “Well, aside from finding your father to be an intolerant, arrogant prick, what I’m gathering is that sex lives amongst people of your social standing are generally boring as hell.”

“They’re _not_ ,” Draco said, at the same moment Pansy said, “Yes, very.”

“Not on the same page there, are we?” Harry murmured.

“Oh,” Pansy murmured. “Harry, refill his mug.”

“I’m already sort of drunk,” Draco said. “Honestly, actually, I’m _sure_ I’m drunk, if I’m talking about this with you two.”

“Is that a no?” Harry said.

“No,” Draco said, with a sigh. “Since you’re not going to leave be.”

“No, I am not,” Pansy said, sharply. “Because I want you, and you want me, and I’m so bloody tired of not being able to say what I feel in bed.” She looked up, flushing. “Also, for the record, I like orgasms, and _that’s_ sure as hell not happening.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” Draco said.

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, gently. “We’re talking about it, not raking Draco over the coals about it, and it’s not as if you think he’s enjoying himself and leaving you out of the fun.”

“No,” Pansy said, with a sigh. “Sorry.”

“This is officially excruciating,” Draco said, and reached for Harry’s flask.

“It’s meant to take the edge off, not let you off the hook,” Harry said, gently, holding it back. “Draco, you know her. And me. Do you really think this is meant to be some sort of torture?”

“No,” Draco said, finally, softly. “But it’s not really pleasant.”

“At the risk of this being a dumb question,” Harry murmured, “do you want her?”

“Yes,” Draco said, then flushed. “Oh. That way. Yes.” He paused. “Very much.”

“You know, I’m going to make a point, and you’ll probably want to hit me for it, but bear with me,” Harry said. “It’s no one’s business what goes on behind your bedroom doors but your own.”

“Why would I want to hit you for that?” Draco said. “I don’t disagree.”

“Meaning,” Harry said, dryly. “You can do anything you want. Have anything you want. You could tie her up. Let her tie you up. Use potions, because god knows there about a million of them for every sexual thing you could ever come up with. Have sex for three days straight and never come up for air.” He grinned. “Have threeways with Gryffindors. And you know, unless you tell, no one’s ever going to know.”

Draco flushed, hard. “Oh,” he said.

“Oh,” Pansy said, too, then suddenly looked at him. “Draco, what do you think is going to happen if we let this happen?” She considered. “Actually, I probably ought to be asking myself the same question.”

“It would be a lot, I think,” Draco said, finally.

“Neither of us is particularly good at that sort of intimacy,” Pansy said, finally, softly. “And I think I might be scared. To show you how much I care. How _badly_ I want you.”

“I’d probably run you off,” Draco said, joking, but Harry suspected there was more truth to it than he’d meant to let on.

“No,” Pansy said, sharply. “No, never.”

Harry cleared his throat. “I suck at it,” he admitted. “But I’m not afraid of it. You want me to fuck you through the mattress, I’m thoroughly willing, I don’t hide in bed.”

He was met with identical contemplative looks, and he laughed. “Should I ask for hands if you liked that idea?” he teased.

“Shut up,” Draco said, and Pansy elbowed him.

“I would _really like that_ ,” she said, very firmly. “From both of you, actually.”

“Now who’s had too much,” Draco said, and Pansy shoved him in the side.

“Come on,” she said. “Come on, Draco, tell me something you really want. I don’t care who from. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

Draco paused, flushing, but he met her gaze. “D’you remember that – ah, thing you kept joking about with the armchair? I – well. How much were you joking?”

“Oh,” Pansy said, flushing too. “No, I think that would be good.”

“Really, _really_ bad at mind magic,” Harry reminded, teasing.

“Oh, I kept winding him up talking about how our armchair would be just wide enough for, ah,” Pansy said. “Me on top.”

Harry snorted. “I’ve had you on top of me in that armchair, I think we’ve all had that fantasy.”

“How can you just –“ Draco said, glancing at him. “Talk about what you want like that.”

“Because no one’s ever told me it was wrong,” Harry said, honestly. “And someone’s told both of you it’s something to be ashamed of, and I think you both bought it. Pansy plays with it significantly more than you do, but she’s got just as much trouble with the follow through.”

“Thank you,” she said, biting, but then sighed. “He’s right, you know. I talk a good talk and wear red lipstick, but it’s – it would be something else to be that person _with_ you, when we meant it.”

“Draco,” Harry said, considering. “Me and Pansy. Which way’s it going to drive you crazy?”

“No idea,” Draco said. “Though – I think I hated the idea because I thought you might be… better with her than I was. That you could give her what she wanted.”

“Well, I can,” Harry said, with a low grin, but it was directed at Draco. “But so can you.”

“Again with the talk, Potter,” Draco murmured, but he sounded less uncertain.

“Do you care if I kiss her?” Harry said. “In front of you. Right here. Assuming you’re game, Pansy.” He grinned. “Just a kiss, though I want you in my lap and I’m making absolutely no promises not to put on a show for him, if you want to join me.”

“Yes, _please_ ,” Pansy said. “Draco?”

“All right,” he said, finally, sounding slightly unsure but not entirely uninterested.

“You can stop it any time,” Harry said, sincerely. “Sound fair, Pansy?”

“Sounds like you being a tease,” she said, but glanced at Draco with a smile. “Totally fair. You’re allowed to hate it.”

“I think –“ Draco said, clearing his throat. “I think I might not. Actually.” 

“Look at you, liking untoward things,” Pansy teased, in a way that Harry was fairly certain Draco would have bolted from if it had been him.

“Oh, shut up,” Draco muttered, but his cheeks were red. “Can we get on with this experiment?”

“Yes,” Harry said, and settled back into the pillows, tugging Pansy’s mug out of her hand and setting it on the flagstones. “Hello, gorgeous. Come here.”

“Oh, Potter, false flattery’s so unbecoming,” Pansy sighed, laughing, but she slid a knee over him, sliding straight into his lap, and even if Harry was sure she was faking the confidence, it was still something he’d wanted for longer than he was willing to admit.

“You know,” he murmured, running his fingers up her spine, “I’m starting to think you like to play.”

“However did you guess,” Pansy taunted, suddenly pulling her jumper over her head and unpinning her hair. She had a thin shirt on underneath, but Harry let his gaze drift down anyway.

“Jesus, Dr. Malfoy,” he teased. “I might have to ban that along with the grey dress robes.”

“Oh, you like them,” Pansy said, flippantly, shaking her hair out as she slid closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Actually, I think you rather like this too.”

“Pansy, you’re in my lap,” Harry said, dryly. “If you can’t tell, I’m doing something wrong.”

Pansy glanced at Draco quickly, but Harry reached a hand up to cup her jaw. “No, here,” he said, firmly. He had a feeling if Draco found their focus on him, he’d stop _watching_.

“Right,” Pansy said, their faces a few inches apart. “Well, Potter? I thought you said you were good for this.”

“Oh, I am,” Harry assured her, pulling her down into a hungry kiss. He shifted, letting her get used to it, then deepened the kiss, sliding a hand up to tangle in her hair and wrapping an arm around her waist. He _felt_ the moment when Pansy forgot about everything else, licking his lower lip, and he nipped hers back, laughing into her mouth when she arched to press against him, her breasts brushing against his chest.

“Come a little closer,” he murmured, coaxing, and Pansy made a low noise and kissed him hard, spreading her knees further to get closer, until she was nearly straddling him. “I can take your weight.”

“Oh, can you,” Pansy said, and settled fully in his lap. Harry let his head fall to nuzzle her neck, licking beneath a collar bone, and then went further down, sliding a hand up to cup a breast as he inhaled the smell of her perfume, breathing hard between her breasts.

“God, you are brilliant,” he said, utterly sincerely, and she tipped her head back and laughed.

“What did I say about flattery,” she said, fondly, running a hand through his hair.

“That it would be very effective in getting you into bed?” Harry hazarded. “And that I should be fully expected to try to do that right now, because I’m that turned on?”

“Hush,” she said, laughing. “Can I look at Draco now? He’s either run off or we’ve killed him.”

“I’m here,” Draco said, hoarsely. “Potter, I’m not sure whether to kiss you or kill you.”

“The first, preferably, though I’ll help convince you. Go on,” Harry said, gently, tipping Pansy towards him. “God knows it’s going to take both of us to keep up with her.”

Pansy was stiffer as she got close to Draco, for lack of a better word, but she looked thoughtful. “You think there’s any reason we couldn’t?” she said, meeting Draco’s eyes.

“Actually, no,” Draco said. “Well – I don’t think I can talk like him.”

“Well, we really needn’t talk,” Pansy murmured.

“Right here,” Harry said, fondly. “You two have to work this one out, but no shame in asking for a hand if you get stuck.” He grinned. “Unmentioned benefits of threeways.”

“Apparently if Potter hadn’t gone into saving the world, he could have been a sexuality counselor,” Draco said, dryly.

“Yes, well, the fact that you’re stuck with Harry is only because you wouldn’t go with me to one,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve really only yourself to blame for his Gryffindor method of fixing things.” She paused. “Well. Not that it’s entirely terrible.”

Harry snorted. “One, I’m not fixing anything, because nothing’s broken here. Two, I’m really only interested in helping you two and myself, so it’s not exactly altruistic.”

“You know, I think he’s right,” Pansy said, tentatively, sliding all the way into Draco’s lap and leaning to nuzzle his neck. Harry watched her swallow. “I’ve been thinking of this – this part of our marriage as utterly wrecked for so long, I think I forgot about why… why it hurt like hell that I couldn’t make it work in the first place.”

“I miss trying,” Draco said, quietly. “I don’t think – you’re my best friend, and I love you, and it’s not as if I don’t want you too. Surely there’s some way to put that together into something where we’re not –“ He laughed, bitterly. “Well. Where no one’s throwing anything at anyone else.”

“Pansy,” Harry said, laughing softly. “For the love of god, just kiss him. And I don’t think you need to hold back.”

“If holding back is the difference between what you just did with Potter and how it usually goes with us, blow that for a game of soldiers,” Draco agreed, firmly.

“Oh,” Pansy said, looking a little startled. “You like the flirting thing?”

“Yes?” Draco said, staring at her. “Obviously? I mean – not when you do it with people other than Potter.” He glanced at Harry. “He might be an acceptable exception.”

“ _With you_ ,” Pansy said, impatiently.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco said. “It drives me insane. The good sort of insane.”

“Oh,” Pansy said. “I really only started it because you’re sort of fun to mess with.”

“So _mess_ with him,” Harry said, a little exasperated. “You’re stalling. Come here.”

He leaned over to kiss Pansy again, ignoring Draco’s noise of protest, and licked into her mouth, sliding a hand to her lower back to nudge her closer against Draco.

“He’s bigger than I am,” Harry pointed out. “I’m reasonably confident he can take your weight too.”

“About the same, actually,” Pansy said, with a grin.

“You are _incorrigible_ ,” Draco said, and Harry pulled back, laughing.

“I know,” Pansy said, loftily. “It’s quite fun, actually. You ought to try it sometime. Also, I’m in your lap and you’re not hard, if you don’t fix that, I’m going to make Potter do something about it.”

“Or you could,” Draco said, looking up at her.

“I suppose,” Pansy teased. “Wifely duties and all.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” Draco nearly growled.

“Oh, all right,” she said, laughing. “Favorite pastimes.” 

“You’re so –“ Draco muttered.

“Fabulous?” Pansy murmured, leaning in until their noses were touching. “Extraordinarily hot? Sexy? Excellent with a wand? Very Slytherin?”

“Talkative,” Draco said, laughing, and finally pulled her down for a kiss. It was tentative, and Harry could see Pansy’s shoulders tense, but he kept his hand on her back, stroking with his thumb, and a moment later he could see when it tipped over into instinct, because her eyes closed and Draco made a low, possessive noise, shoving Harry back so he could wrap an arms around her waist, tugging her in. He buried his other hand in her hair, pulling her closer, and there, _that_ was what he’d been looking for.

Draco started to tense before Pansy noticed, and Harry leaned in. “My turn,” he said, nudging Pansy. “Though you stay put, someone’s got to give me updates on whether he’s enjoying this.”

“Prat,” Draco said, breathing hard, but he didn’t object when Harry leaned in to kiss him hard, wrapping a hand around the base of his neck.

“Yes, utterly,” Harry said, kissing him harder, and it wasn’t the same as earlier, but it was better, somehow, because they were _choosing_ this.

He tangled a hand in Draco’s hair and just kept kissing him, drawing it out until he looked too wrecked and thoroughly distracted to start thinking again. Harry figured it was probably better to keep him that way.

“So,” Harry said, mildly. “Pansy, you _did_ mention orgasms.”

“I did,” Pansy said, slowly. “Does this mean one of you is going to stop treating me like a delicate flower and make good on that whole fucking me into the mattress promise? Because I’m tired, but I’m not _that_ tired.”

“This isn’t exactly a mattress,” Harry teased.

“Do I look as if I care?” Pansy demanded, laughing, still wrapped around Draco.

“So,” Harry said, dryly, and refilled both their mugs before Draco could protest. “Let’s play a game.”

“I like games,” Pansy said, laughing.

“All right,” Draco said, warily.

“Come here,” Harry said, renewing the warming charms, and tugged Pansy’s shirt over her head. He kept his eyes on Pansy’s face, but Draco didn’t, and Harry laughed. “You both promise to be totally honest?”

“Yes, as if I’ve been lying all evening,” Draco muttered. 

“Shut up, yes,” Pansy said.

“Hot or cold,” Harry said. “Answer at the same time so no one cheats.”

“We were kissing,” Draco said. “The kissing was perfectly pleasant.”

“Yes,” Harry said, laughing. “And now we’re doing more than kissing.” He nudged Pansy, who settled back against Draco, looking up at him.

“You can feel me up if it’ll make you stop complaining,” she said, lightly. “Potter’s trying to be all gentlemanly, but I’m rather over that, and I like your hands.”

“Just to make this less totally unbearable,” Draco murmured, sliding his hands up to her breasts, and Pansy slid backwards, laughing. 

“He’s not hating this as much as he says,” she said, brightly. “Ten theoretical points to Gryffindor.”

“I’m not responding to that,” Draco said. “Unless I can give ten theoretical points to Slytherin for how you look topless.”

“Totally fair,” Harry agreed, and Pansy flushed, looking pleased. 

“Okay, one,” Harry said, stretching out, because there was no reason not to enjoy the view. “Pansy’s having mind-blowing orgasms in bed.”

“Frigid,” Pansy said, dryly, at the same time Draco murmured, “I don’t know, lukewarm?”

Harry snorted. “Don’t feel badly,” he said, before Draco could say anything. “You and every other bloke in the universe, myself included.”

“Two, this is an excellent view,” Harry said.

“Warm,” Pansy said, and Draco laughed. “Extremely hot.”

“This is an excellent view with _both_ of you,” Harry said, dryly.

“Hot,” Pansy said, cheerfully. “Warm?” Draco said.

Harry snorted. “I’m not in this just for Pansy’s breasts,” he said. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Oh, all right,” Draco said, but he looked vaguely pleased.

“Three, Pansy’s having mind-blowing orgasms on her own,” Harry said.

“Hot?” Draco said, and Pansy made a face. “Cool. Okay, cold.”

Harry stretched, giving her a look. “Well?”

“It’s – I don’t like it that much alone,” Pansy said. “And – it’s never as good as I think it ought to be, because Draco’s not there. I mean, not that I think you need a man or something, but I’m just –“

“That’s you,” Harry said, simply. “Don’t apologize for you.”

“Yeah,” Pansy said.

“Four, same questions for Draco,” Harry said.

“Er,” Pansy said. “Lukewarm, and I’ve absolutely no idea? Warm, at least?”

“Very cold, colder,” Draco said, flushing a little. “And, honestly, about the same reason.”

“You always come,” Pansy said, a little startled.

“Doesn’t mean it’s any good,” Harry said.

“What he said,” Draco said, ruefully. “And no, I don’t always.”

“Oh,” Pansy said. She lifted a hand to his cheek, tugging him down for a kiss. “Well. We’re sorting that out too, then.”

“Okay,” Draco agreed, looking sort of pleased again. “I can live with that.”

“Five –“ Harry considered. “You know at least five sex spells and two potions.”

“Theoretically or practically?” Pansy said. “And what on earth are you considering a sex potion?”

Harry snorted. “That’s a cold for Pansy,” he said. “Draco?”

“Cold,” he said. “I mean – practically speaking. Theoretically speaking, it’s not as if I don’t know how to brew them.” He paused. “Or, you know, the crazy psychedelic aphrodisiac plants, but they’re mostly toxic, so I think that may not be the way to go.”

“Okay, six,” Harry said. “You think it’s a decent idea to help Pansy out with a spell while we watch.”

“Hot,” Draco said, slowly. “You can do that?”

“You’re going to _watch_?” Pansy said, a little dubiously.

“Yes, and yes,” Harry said. “You said you didn’t like not having him around,” he pointed out. “He’ll be right there. I’ll be right here. And I promise I can make it good.”

“Okay, tentatively warm,” Pansy said. “Do I get to know what you’re doing?”

“You can pick, actually,” Harry said, then held a hand up before either of them could say anything. “I had an adventurous ex-fiancée, and no, I’d really rather not talk about that, mostly because it’s over and done with, and also, not to ruin your moment or anything, but I lived in a house with thousands of books, some of them were relevant to the topic at hand.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m raiding the Restricted Section,” Pansy said, laughing.

“Or you could just, you know, borrow some of mine, I’m not sure the Restricted Section’s all that good for anything that’s not likely to kill you,” Harry said. “Any idea what you like?”

“Can I just – go with no?” Pansy hazarded, then brightened. “Tabula rasa. You don’t care if I don’t know, so I can say no even if I’ve _some_ idea.”

“Ten theoretical points to Slytherin,” Harry said, laughing. “Oral sex?”

“No clue,” Pansy said, cheerfully, then paused. “Um, legitimately no clue. I’ve tried going down on Draco, but I don’t think he likes it.”

“I’ve tried going down on you, and I don’t think _you_ like it,” Draco said. “Though I do, by the way. I mean – both ways.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, flushing. “Well. I mean. I’m honestly not sure. It’s… we tend to call it off, it’s awkward.”

“We really should have just gotten drunk and played truth or dare,” Harry said, laughing. “And, um, for the record, I’ll turn the tables and let you two at me soon, all right? I’m really not –“ He considered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I hope this is helping. I _think_ this is helping. But it feels one sided, like I’m some sort of expert, and I’m not a fan of the feeling, so free pass on anything you want to know or do tomorrow or whenever we can manage this again, all right?”

“Thanks,” Draco said, softly. “I know you’ve had more sex, but that makes it easier.”

“That’s it,” Harry said, honestly. “That’s the complete and total sum of it. I’m not better at this, I’m not good at anything you’re not. I just don’t have a decade of frustration behind it, I’ve spent years around women who think sex is a breakfast table topic and I learned a lot from that even if I didn’t always want to, and no one’s ever told me what sort of sex I should or shouldn’t be having. That’s the entire difference.” He paused. “And for the record, I’ve had my share of really awkward, uncomfortable, can’t-quite-make-it-work sex. So I get what that’s like too.”

Pansy reached out to grab his wrist, tugging him into a hug. “Thanks,” she said. “I – you’re helping. And I don’t feel totally fucked up.” She glanced at Draco.

“Relatively tipsy,” he said, laughing. “But no. I feel okay.” He paused. “Which is a little odd, actually, every time we try to talk about this I end up punching walls.”

“Maybe the trick is having plants for walls,” Pansy teased.

“Or having Harry,” Draco said, looking at him.

“I’m giving you a hand,” Harry said, softly. “And I do want in. With both of you. But tonight’s not about that.” He paused. “Okay, all the kissing wasn’t entirely for you two.”

Draco snorted. “Who’d have guessed, you want things,” he said. 

“I do,” Harry said, honestly. “And I don’t really fuck around about that. But if you think I’m the glue that’s holding you together, neither one of you is going to trust a bit of that, so we’re doing this the hard way.” He stretched. “Though I suppose it ought to be at least a little fun.”

He held out a blanket to Pansy. “Less clothes,” he said. “If you don’t have a preference, we’ll try the oral sex thing, and if you don’t like it, we’ll switch. Fair?”

“Okay,” Pansy said, stripping until she was – well. Very naked. Harry swallowed. 

“Right?” Draco said, laughing softly. “You might see why I’m going bloody insane.”

“Shut up,” Pansy said, laughing, and wriggled into the blankets, murmuring more heating charms. “No point in denying you both the view.”

“I’m assuming you want him close,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Pansy said, and leaned to murmur something in Draco’s ear. He laughed.

“Yes, all right,” he said, then Pansy nudged him, and Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m okay with you up here too, and she asked if it was all right, so I assume she’d like us both.”

Harry snorted. “Just cast a duplicating spell on some of those pillows,” he said, stretching out on Pansy’s other side.

“I –“ Pansy said, flushing, and Harry couldn’t help but notice it went all the way from her face to her stomach. “I’m not much of a fan of doing this alone, and I’ve always wanted you there, but I hope you don’t mind if I’m starting to think I’d like him too. Not the same way, but maybe – in a few years, it’d be the same way.”

“No,” Draco said, gently, tilting her face up for a kiss. “As long as we both get to see him naked, I can hardly claim I’m getting jealous.” He paused. “Well. I can. But I’d probably have no idea which of you I was jealous of, so it seems like a rather pointless thing.”

Harry snorted. “Good to know I don’t have to figure out how serious we are,” suddenly finding himself pinned by two gazes.

“You didn’t already _know_ , and I’m naked?” Pansy demanded.

“What she said,” Draco said. “I talked about sex with you.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “For the love of god,” he said. “Yes, I knew, but sometimes people have discussions about what page they’re on before making long term commitments.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, looking less murderous. “No, not Slytherins. Well. All right. Not us.”

“I know what I want, and I like to get it,” Harry said, with a grin, leaning down to kiss Pansy. “Not to worry.”

“No lack of self confidence there,” Draco said, dryly, and Harry slid in against Pansy’s side.

“Not these days, no,” Harry said, meeting his eyes. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

“Stop _doing_ that,” Draco said, irritably. “I ought to want to punch you, and instead I just want –“

“To fuck me?” Harry said, with a grin.

“Ten theoretical points from Gryffindor for Potter being an arrogant arse,” Draco muttered.

“Ten theoretical points _to_ Gryffindor because we think it’s hot,” Pansy said. “Also, I’m naked and no one’s paying any attention to me, you two can get yours later.”

“Pansy, I assure you, I’m paying attention,” Harry said, mildly, pressing his hips against her side. “You want anything else? Muscle relaxing charm? Another round?” He leaned in for a kiss. “You’re not putting on a show for this one. We both need to know what it looks like when it’s real.” He laughed. ”Though please don’t mistake me, I can make you scream the castle down and I fully intend to.” He grinned at Draco. “So can you, and you fully intend to as well.”

“God, that sounds good,” Pansy said, flushing again. “And no, just – go on.”

“This one’s easy,” Harry said, for the record, and settled a hand on her stomach. “It’s not just oral sex, it’s, ah, oral sex _from_ someone, so you’ve got to name a target. They’ll have had to consent to the spell if they’re not casting. You’ve got my consent, I assume you’ve got Draco’s.”

“Yeah,” Draco said. “Though honestly, I’m not sure you’d want to use it yet.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not like – a set pattern,” he said. “Just how you’d do it. It’s responsive. So theoretically, the charm ought to respond to her and do what she likes. Please don’t ask me how it works, I don’t think I read that chapter. Though it was probably invented by seventeen year olds.” He laughed. “It’s not gender specific, either, so –“

“Absolutely,” Pansy said, then glanced at them. “What? You said you needed consent, I’m giving it.”

“Trade?” Harry said, with a low grin for Draco, who laughed.

“Trade,” he said. “Show me how this works.”

“My wand’s still over there, usually you’d use that, but whatever, we’re both good at wandless,” he said, with a shrug, leaning to kiss Pansy’s neck. He spread his fingers, nudging his thumb against her hip bone, and murmured the charm against her ear, loudly enough for Draco to hear.

“How’s it know – ah, the target?” she said.

“I cast it,” Harry said. “If you cast it, you tell it. Now shut up. Well –“ He laughed. “At least academically shut up.”

“Agreed,” Draco said, watching her.

Harry laughed when Pansy suddenly jumped, blinking up at him. “Oh,” she said, considering. She was starting to flush again. “That’s… interesting.”

“Damning with faint praise,” Harry teased, with a nudge for Draco. “Pretty sure she likes getting felt up.”

“It’s weird,” Pansy said, then tilted her head back, closing her eyes as Draco slid a hand to her breast.

“Potter, I’m not sure you’re winning this one,” Draco said, laughing.

“Shut up, I’d’ve said the same thing to you if I hadn’t been embarrassed. It _is_.”

Harry stroked his hand up her side. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings if you want something else,” he said. “But…” He laughed. “You’re really tense, I’m theoretically probably still trying to warm you up.”

“I still –“ Pansy blushed, then wriggled, tugging a blanket over herself, but she guided their hands back. “I’m okay with you watching, I just –“

“Pansy, shut up,” Harry said, fondly, leaning to kiss her neck. “No one cares.”

“I really don’t,” Draco agreed, then tugged his jumper off, settling in closer against her side. “You wanted to do this – uh, with me?” he said, sounding curious.

“I like everything better with you around,” Pansy murmured, eyes closing. “Plus then it’s – um, us, and –“ She paused, and Harry felt her arch her hips, spreading her legs between them.

“Yeah,” Draco said, swallowing. 

Harry ran a hand up the inside of her thigh.

“Just enjoy it,” he said.

“Yeah,” Pansy said, turning to look at Draco, reaching up to cup his face. “It’s not that intense,” she murmured. “Just – distracting. Good distracting. And, yeah, a million times better with you.”

“You’re beautiful,” Draco murmured, leaning down to kiss her, then considered, glancing up at Harry for a second. “Do you like it if I mention I’m stupidly into you?”

Pansy laughed, gasping a little at the end. “Every girl hates that,” she said, but then smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I like that a lot.”

“Did I mention I’m stupidly into you,” Draco murmured, against her collarbone. “You really like this?”

“It’s really intimate,” Pansy admitted, flushing. “But yeah, I, ah. I do.”

Harry murmured something, and Pansy blinked. “What’d you just do?” she said.

“Switched the target,” he said, with a grin. “I was just getting you started, I figured I’d let him get you off.”

“You can tell?” Draco said, sounding a little hesitant.

“Yeah,” Pansy said. “But not – like that, or anything, just –“ She tipped her head back again, laughing. “He’s pushy, you’re thorough, it’s good both ways.”

“ _Not_ a competition,” Harry said, firmly, holding Draco’s gaze. “Ever.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said, with a sudden grin. “That could be fun.”

“Fuck no,” Pansy said, laughing breathlessly. “I’ve seen you two play Quidditch.”

“Point,” Harry said, grinning back. “Ten theoretical points for excellent ideas.”

Draco suddenly blinked, still meeting his eyes. “You’re really not just here for her,” he said.

“No, you bloody _idiot_ ,” Harry said, reaching to grab the back of his neck so he could pull him into a kiss. “You drive me fucking crazy in every way imaginable. What was it, ‘did I mention I’m stupidly into you?’”

“He’s very dense,” Pansy said, breathing going suddenly deeper. “Really – thick about things.” 

“I’ll say it more later,” Harry said. “You’re going to make her come, want to watch?”

“I’m not sure that –“ Draco started.

“Seriously, Draco,” Harry said, laughing, and settled closer against Pansy. “Having fun?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Pansy said, breathless.

“Hot or cold?” Harry teased.

“You’re apparently a fucking tease,” Pansy muttered to Draco, grabbing his t-shirt and pulling him down for a long kiss.

Draco grinned. “Kettle, meet cauldron,” he murmured. “You like it.”

“I really, really, do,” Pansy said, arching her back. “We’re doing this with – people next time, then I can yell at you.”

Harry snorted. “You can save it for business trips,” he said, cupping her breast and stroking a thumb over her nipple.

“Do normal people talk this much during sex?” Pansy managed.

“Not in my experience,” Harry said, dryly. “But you two aren’t exactly known for shutting up. _Ever_.”

“I’m shutting up now,” Draco said, watching Pansy’s face. He stroked a hand through her hair, leaning to kiss up her neck, nuzzling against her jaw.

“Mm,” Harry agreed, drawing slow circles on Pansy’s stomach with his thumb, and he felt her breathe in, fisting a hand in Draco’s shirt as she shuddered and came.

“ _Oh_ ,” she said, then threw her head back again. “Fuck, Draco, don’t stop.”

Harry wasn’t entirely surprised that Draco would be persistent, and Pansy came three more times before she grabbed Harry’s shoulder.

“Really bad at casting without my wand,” she managed. “Ease it off?”

“Pretty sure he could do this all night,” Harry teased, but he switched the target back to himself. He was pretty sure he’d slow it down, and Pansy finally relaxed back against him, panting.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Pansy said, finally, laughing quietly. “I think I’m actually going to be sore tomorrow. From _orgasms_.” She sounded almost gleeful, reaching up to kiss Draco. “Can we do that a million more times?”

“Well, you’re not the only one who really liked it,” Draco said, laughing, flushed, and murmured a cleaning charm under his breath. “So yeah, if you don’t care that it’s going to take me a while to figure that out.”

Pansy waved a hand, falling back against the pillows happily. “That’s perfect,” she said. “I need stamina. Or something.”

Harry couldn’t keep himself from laughing, leaning to kiss Draco. “Fun?” he said.

“Yeah,” Draco said, sounding a little surprised.

“Um, yes,” Pansy said. “Hell yes. This is my new favorite activity. Fuck – writing papers and research and – all that. I’m never getting out of bed.”

“Okay, so,” Harry said, still laughing. “The trick is, that’s the _entire fucking point_.”

“Huh,” Pansy said, considering. “D’you know, I think he might be right.”

“We probably shouldn’t go around admitting that, he’ll get more ideas,” Draco said, pausing for a second before he pulled Harry in. “Um. Do you –“

“I’m good,” Harry said. “ _Really_ good.” He smiled. “I like orgasms. But I don’t have sex for them.” He nudged his nose against Draco’s. “My brain’s more about the connection thing.”

“Hey,” Pansy said, poking Draco’s side. “Potter’s like that. _He_ likes the – connection thing.” 

“I think it’s called emotional intimacy,” Harry said, dryly.

“Well, my point is,” Pansy said. “If you like that, and Draco likes that, and I like that, then it’s... okay, isn’t it?”

“Quit asking my permission,” Harry said, affectionately, but he could tell that she’d meant it. “Pansy, unless I’ve missed something incredibly weird in Draco’s greenhouse, and maybe even then, _everything_ the three of us want is utterly, completely within the realm of normal. I mean –“ He laughed. “I’m pretty far on the bell curve of not even wanting anything to do with sex unless it’s with someone I really want to be with, but yeah.” He smiled. “It’s all okay.”

Draco let out a long breath. “I’m only saying this because I’m drunk and just had a pretty spectacular orgasm, but I think maybe – I needed to hear that.”

Harry kissed him again. “Don’t get too honest, you’ll have to keep me,” he teased.

“Like that’s not already a done deal,” Draco said, fondly, stroking a hand down his back. 

“Good news is, we can keep doing that as much as you’d like, as long as no one falls behind on teaching their courses,” Harry said, laughing. “Bad news is, we do have to sleep at some point. And as much as I enjoy the great outdoors, I think I’d sort of like it to be in an actual bed.”

“All right,” Draco agreed.

“Harry?” Draco said, quietly, while Pansy got dressed and started packing Harry’s bag, yawning. “Can I borrow a question from tomorrow?” He smiled, though it was a little unsure. “You said we could ask.”

“Sure,” Harry said.

“Please tell me there’s something you’re really insecure about in bed,” Draco said, dryly. “Because otherwise I think I’m going to go home and be utterly mortified.”

“Loads of things,” Harry said, nudging his nose against Draco’s temple. “But – new partners, actually.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m good at the talking part. But opening up physically with somebody new? It’s…” He laughed. “If I use the words, ‘totally terrifying,’ you’ve got to promise not to judge.”

“No,” Draco said, slowly, and he leaned a little closer. “You mind telling me why?”

“It’s a little hard to explain,” Harry said. “No, hold on, I’m not putting you off, I’m just saying, if it doesn’t make sense, ask me until it makes sense.”

“Okay.”

“I have to really, really, _really_ fucking care about someone before I want to go to bed with them, otherwise sex isn’t really my thing,” Harry said. “And by that point, my head’s so far past anything I think I can say with my body that I start worrying I’ll fuck it up.” He laughed. “Or get – too enthusiastic and show my hand, if they don’t already know how I feel.” He paused. “Or, frankly, just get too enthusiastic and come in ten seconds, that’s happened and it’s mortifying. I’ll probably be a mess about it even though I know we’re on solid ground, mostly because I haven’t said –“ He swallowed. “I haven’t said much about how I feel. So in my head, it’ll end up feeling more extreme than how you do, and I’ll worry it’s too much.”

Draco shook his head, laughing softly. “Pansy already asked you to stay permanently,” he pointed out. “I’m with her, you know.”

“Yes, and that doesn’t mean I still can’t utterly fuck up the sex part,” Harry pointed out.

“I somehow think we might be able to help with that one,” Draco said. “We might not have been so great at sex, but –“ He glanced over at Pansy with a smile as she woke up the daemons. “Utterly over the top commitment, we do well.”

Harry snorted. “Slytherins,” he said.

“And Gryffindors,” Draco pointed out. “Who’d have thought.”

It was nearly dawn by the time they got back to the castle, Pansy yawning every other word.

“Come on,” she said, once they’d gotten back, and rolled her eyes when Harry went to grab his cloak. “Like you’re not sleeping here.”

“No way in hell,” Draco agreed. 

“Come on, before we all fall over,” Kit said, nudging him.

It turned out that Pansy and Draco’s bed was more than big enough for a third person, if Lethe and Kit conceded to sleep at the foot, and Harry would have thought about it further, how nice it was to have Draco tucked against his back, Pansy’s leg flung over them, but he was asleep before he could bother.

Harry woke up around dinner to Thaxia nudging him about the living room floo, and he pulled on what he suspected was Draco’s bathrobe and went to answer it before it could wake anyone else.

To her credit, McGonagall didn’t bat an eyelash at him. “Ms. Granger-Weasley, Mister Weasley, Ms. Delacour, and I have settled on a course of action,” she said. “But I’m afraid Professor Malfoy and the Slytherins aren’t going to like it very much.”

“All right,” Harry said, warily.

“It’s necessary,” McGonagall said. “The wards have gotten thinner, and with the new moon…” Her mouth was a thin line. “I suppose Hermione will explain.”

“Harry, we can’t let this go any longer,” Hermione said, softly. “We put patrols on the tunnels, and today was bad. Bill found a lethifold, they’re not even supposed to be here. And the Head Boy and Bellweather killed about a hundred acromantula hatchlings. Not to mention that we’ve found empty graves in the south graveyard, and there’s something in one of your traps that no one can identify. The venom liquefied it.”

“Fuck,” Harry said, softly.

“But Fleur thought of something,” Hermione said, sounding resolute. “We think we can fix the wards. Tonight.”

“But?” Harry said, because he had a sinking suspicion there was no way Hermione and McGonagall would look so grim if there wasn’t a serious catch.

“Well, there’s a caveat,” Hermione said, grimly. “We still don’t have enough of Ravenclaw’s blood. I’ve tested the students, the professors, the blood bank… Harry, I even went through the historic samples that we’d never be able to get consent for. There simply isn’t enough to tip the balance of power away from Slytherin.”

“So we can’t fix it,” Harry said, grimly.

“Well,” Hermione said. “We can’t fix the amount of Ravenclaw blood we have. But we can even the score on the castle.”

“How?” Harry said.

“We have to trick Hogwarts, Harry,” she said, a little sadly. “The only way to do it is to make it seem like Slytherin’s section of the castle is far worse off than it is. We’ve got to do nearly the damage to it that was done to Ravenclaw. We’re going to have to destroy the dungeons.”

“ _Destroy_ them?” Harry repeated, dully.

“Pull down enough of the exterior wall to flood all the tunnels and dungeons, including the Slytherin chambers and the Potions wing,” Hermione said. “The Chamber of Secrets too. And we’ve got to rip the wards there to pieces. It won’t be safe.” 

“And there’s no other way?” Harry said. 

“We’ll find enough blood,” Hermione said, tiredly. “But it could take months, a year, maybe longer. It’s not forever, I suppose. They can be rebuilt, someday, like the tower. But for now, it’s our only decent option.”

“Right,” Harry said. “You’ll have to – buy us a little time. To move the Potions ingredients. Evacuate the students.”

Hermione shook her head, smiling. “It’s all nearly been done,” she said. “Anything of importance has been moved. The Slytherins are in the Astronomy Tower for now. McGonagall’s going to figure out a more permanent solution as soon as we’re done. The only thing left to do is move out the Malfoys.” She glanced at him. “We’ve moved you near Gryffindor tower, it’s cramped but it’ll do. And there’s room for them in the Defense Tower. We’ll just send their furniture and it’ll be done.”

“Right,” Harry said, hollowly, with a sudden awareness that he’d be much further than a hallway away from Draco and Pansy. “I suppose I’d better tell them.”

“Fleur’s built the model,” Hermione said. “I’m going to go collect the blood, and then we’ll need you in the Headmistress’ office. Bill and Ron will start tearing down the wall and the wards once you’re out.”

“All right,” Harry said, finally.

As expected, neither Draco nor Pansy took the news particularly well.

“It’s all well and good for you to say it,” Pansy said, near tears. “But it’s not as if it’s Gryffindor Tower. It’s not _yours_.” Kit was pacing behind her, growling under his breath.

“You don’t get it,” Draco said, quietly. “Most of the Gryffindors go home for the holidays. They’ve got people. But the Slytherins, these days… they don’t. You won. We’ve got more orphans than any other house, and this _is_ their home. And you’ve just put them in the Astronomy Tower? As if that’s some sort of solution, as if they’re just movable pieces?”

“I know,” Harry said, fighting exhaustion. “I know. But there’s nothing else. And maybe we can rebuild. But it’s not safe.”

Pansy turned, finally, and straightened her robes. “I know,” she said, simply. “But it’s our home.”

“It’s not,” Harry said, softly. “It’s brick and mortar. Those children are what matters. I – that was me. A war orphan. And I would tear down Gryffindor Tower with my bare hands if it meant just one Gryffindor student stayed safe. Just one _student_ stayed safe.”

“You’re right, of course,” Pansy said. “But I’ve got to go to them – I’m their Head of House, I’ve no idea why no one woke me, I’ve –“

“No,” Draco said, finally, gently, grabbing her wrists. “You go with Harry. I’ll go to the students.”

“Head of House,” Pansy said, sounding a little frantic.

“And, to be brutally honest, a far more powerful witch,” Draco said. “My magic’s not in casting. So go. Do it. And the sun will come up tomorrow, and we’ll all be tired as hell and they’ll probably want to kill one another from sleeping on the floor, but there won’t be any more _things_ coming in through the tunnels to try to kill them. There’s been more than enough of that.”

In the end, it was both harder and easier than Harry had imagined. The stewards moved all of Pansy and Draco’s things to what was supposedly a near duplicate of their rooms on the other side of the castle. “I’ll see you after,” Draco said, Lethe following him toward the tower. “Don’t let them explode my greenhouses, please.”

“Not a chance,” Harry said, with a tired smile.

There was already a group of people in McGonagall’s office when Harry and Pansy arrived, and a moment later, Bill and Ron followed, looking exhausted and soaked.

“Fleur’s brought the model,” Hermione said, gesturing to a perfect replica set out on the table. She set a crystal decanter on the table next to it, pulling out a flask of blood from her bag and unsealing it. “Two from each house, I think.”

Two professors took Hufflepuff, Penelope Clearwater – surprisingly enough – and the Head Boy took Ravenclaw, and then Pansy stepped forward for Slytherin and Harry felt himself stepping in beside her. “I think I’m here tonight,” he said, quietly.

“Quite so,” McGonagall said, and stepped up to the table beside Hermione, her daemon at her feet.

“Thank god for advanced Potions,” Hermione quipped, “I can cast and pour,” but no one really laughed. 

“There’s no spell,” Bill said. “Just feel it out. It’s going to pull your magic wide open, so if anyone can’t handle it, step back, and someone will step in for you.” He paused. “Hermione?”

“We all know the castle,” she said, softly. “Think of it like walking in the dark. Feel for rough edges and smooth them over. Shut any open doors and windows. Seal any cracks.”

“It’s easier if you shut your eyes,” Pansy said. Harry found her hand under the table and gripped it tightly as Hermione began to pour, closing his eyes.

It was, he found, a little like sleep walking, if the castle was calling him in a hundred directions in his sleep. Hermione had mentioned walking the halls, but Harry saw snitches, hundreds of snitches, and floating, perfect orbs. He grabbed the one in front of him and it crumbled to dust in his fingers, and Harry knew suddenly that there had been a tiny hole in a keystone of the main gate. Some were easier to catch than others, and Harry figured that these probably weren’t his alone. A snitch disappeared above him, caught by an invisible hand. He thought hard and summoned a broomstick, until he could grab and grab – the whole Chamber of Secrets, a book in the library, a chipped window in the Hufflepuff girls’ lavatory. Some took a lot out of him, and by the end, Harry was tired, so tired, but there was one more, near the ceiling, and he felt the staircase to the dungeons disappear beneath his fingertips and woke up.

Fleur had replaced the Head Boy, and Lisse’s cat daemon looked a bit faint, but the model was glowing, pulsing bright, and the nagging feeling of unease that had been hovering beneath Harry’s skin was gone. The sconces showed a little brighter. Hermione examined the decanter for a moment, sealing it, and then handed it to McGonagall, who sent it… to nowhere, with a flick of her wrist.

“Most excellent work, everyone,” she said, but she sounded tired herself. “I believe that will be all that is required of us tonight.”

It took a moment, but Hermione found Pansy, grabbing her wrist. “We’ll keep working,” she said, fiercely. “I promise.”

“Actually,” Pansy said, with a smile. “I think it’s all right. I’ll be glad to have them back, but for now, I think I’d just like a stiff drink and my bed. Wherever it’s gotten to.”

“It’s been a hell of a few days,” Thaxia said.

“Goodnight, Harry, Thaxia,” Hermione said, with a kiss to his cheek. “Pansy. Kitcaron.”

“Thank you,” Pansy said, softly. “For keeping them safe.”

“Always,” Hermione said.

“I’ll walk you back,” Harry said. Pansy and Draco’s rooms weren’t hard to find, at least, but Harry sighed. The bedroom was smaller, and someone had decided to shrink the bed, and there was only one washroom.

“Well, this will be cozy,” Pansy said, with a sigh. “For the record, Draco kicks, he’s on your side.” 

“Absolutely not,” Harry said. “It’s been a bad enough day without me stealing your bed out from under you.”

“You can’t just unilaterally decide,” Pansy protested. “He gets a say. I get a say.”

Harry sighed. “Pansy, I can’t,” he said, gently. “There will be twenty Ravenclaws outside that door tomorrow morning going to Transfiguration, and I have no idea how Draco feels about that. I haven’t had a chance to ask him.”

“We could sleep in the Room of Requirement,” Pansy said, a little desperately, and Harry laughed, pulling her in for a hug.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning,” Harry said. “Kiss him goodnight for me when he gets back.”

“Yes, I’ll let you know how that goes,” Pansy said, dryly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry said. “And on the bright side, we can be reasonably certain that nothing’s going to eat anyone in the night.”

“Thank god for small mercies,” Pansy said. “Goodnight, Harry.”


	2. Part 2

“I don’t like it,” Thaxia said, instantly, when they entered his new rooms, and Harry thought it was a little ironic, really – if he’d been given them when he’d first been sent to the castle, he’d have been over the moon.

It was small, but there was a Lion Rampant banner hung over the fireplace, an overstuffed bed, and a window looking out onto the Quidditch pitch.

“Kind of awful, actually,” Harry agreed.

He tossed and turned all night, Thaxia waking up at least a dozen times, and Harry finally gave up and got dressed when he heard the first breakfast bell. “I’ll think of something,” he told her. “Really, I will.”

“You’d better,” she said. “I think they’re going to murder you otherwise.”

When Harry caught sight of McGonagall at the head table, something finally occurred to him.

“Where are we keeping all the Potions ingredients and the classroom?” Harry said. “Er, morning.”

“I was hoping Professor Malfoy would have some idea of where he wanted them,” McGonagall said, tiredly. “They’re in a classroom for now. One with no windows, at least. But I don’t think anything can be brewed there.” She sighed. “I’ll add it to my list, Professor Potter. But I’ve just lost nearly a quarter of the castle, finding a classroom in the next few days is rather low on my list.”

“I’ve got an idea, actually,” he said. “If I could maybe borrow Martingale and some of the NEWT students for a few hours?”

“Of course,” McGonagall said, sounding a little surprised.

“I’ll sit down and explain,” Harry said.

“By all means,” McGonagall said, sounding amused. “If it means solving that particular problem, then you’ll have my undivided attention.”

“More than one of them, actually,” Harry said, and pulled up a chair.

Once the second rush of students going to breakfast had passed, Harry headed back toward Draco and Pansy’s rooms. He winced halfway down the hallway – the privacy charms made it impossible to determine _what_ was being said, but the yelling was more than audible.

“I know classes are cancelled for the rest of the week, but suppose we just went anyway,” Thaxia said. “Someone might show up. They might have questions.”

“Nice try,” Harry said, dryly.

“I’ll bite anyone if they try the killing curse,” Thaxia said, with a sigh.

“Very thoughtful of you,” Harry said, and murmured the password, getting in and shutting the portrait behind him before anyone could see.

Pansy was in a dressing gown and Draco was only wearing boxer briefs, and they were both yelling so loudly over one another that Harry could barely make a word out.

“ _Enough_ ,” Harry yelled, and they both froze, turning to stare at him. Draco’s cheeks were flushed, and Pansy looked utterly furious.

“Oh, the cavalry,” Lethe muttered, from where she had Kit pinned. “Does this mean we can hide behind the sofa now?”

“No room,” Kit said, with a sigh.

“What the bloody hell?” Harry said. 

“He’s being a bloody _fucking_ -“ Pansy started, and Harry shook his head.

“ _Kit_ is biting anyone who can’t be civil,” he said.

“Hey,” Thaxia protested. Harry ignored her.

“I do not want to discuss this,” Draco said, firmly.

“Excellent,” Harry said. “Have I mentioned lately how much I care?”

“Oh, come off it, Potter,” Pansy snarled. “We both know Draco doesn’t _talk_.”

“Yes, as if we haven’t done enough of that enough already,” Draco said. “As if I can’t just want something that’s not so bloody fucking complicated for once.”

“Oh, yes, that’s all me,” Pansy said. “I’m the only person with any complexity here.”

“At least I haven’t got some sort of _complex_ over Potter,” Draco snarled.

“Fuck you,” Pansy yelled. “We all know _you’ve_ no interest whatsoever. Let’s just pretend the other night never happened, I think that ought to go over swimmingly.”

“Wow,” Harry said, flopping down on the sofa. “By all means, keep going, maybe I’ll eventually figure out the context. As it stands, it’s certainly entertaining.”

“I’d fill you in, but apparently we’re not talking about anything, let alone anything involving you,” Pansy snapped, glaring at Draco.

“No, we’re only talking about _everything_ involving you,” Draco replied.

“If you two don’t knock it off, I’m petrifying both of you, stuffing you in a closet, and leaving you there until you’ve cooled off, which seems like it might be a few weeks,” Harry said, starting to get irritated. “Someone start talking.”

“He wanted to – see if things had gotten better, try some things,” Pansy said, swallowing. “And I said I thought maybe we ought to talk some more. And wait for you. And that I was tired.”

“And I hardly think I need Potter’s permission,” Draco said, glaring at Pansy. “Though apparently you’re only interested if he’s involved, and we both know where Potter’s at.” 

“Which is where, exactly?” Harry said.

“I don’t know,” Draco snapped. “Certainly not here. Though you really ought to have just taken Pansy with you, I’m sure she’d have gone.”

“I am _sitting on your couch_ ,” Harry said.

“Yes, at eleven AM,” Draco said. “Lovely timing.” 

“Should I understand a single thing anyone is saying?” Thaxia mused. “I really don’t.”

“Not it,” Kit said. 

“You’re never it,” Lethe muttered, but she came over to stand next to Harry, putting her head in his lap, ears flat and unhappy. “If you would fix this, we would appreciate it.”

“Oh, _thank_ you,” Draco said. “Anyone else in this room want to side with Potter? I suppose we can’t go too much further than my wife _and_ my daemon, but Kit, by all means.”

“You don’t have to answer him, he’s being childish,” Pansy said.

Draco glared at her for a moment longer and finally turned and stepped, slamming the bedroom door. Pansy burst into tears.

“Oh bloody _hell_ ,” Harry said. “Thaxia, have the house elves send tea. And possibly some of those chocolate pastries.”

He glanced between Pansy and the daemons. “Right,” he said. “One, I hate yelling, so we’re done with that. Two, someone had better explain. Maybe both of you, I’ve no idea.”

Pansy wiped her face on her sleeve viciously, still looking irate. “He wanted to – you know –“

“Have sex?” Harry said, dryly. “I can’t add whiskey to the tea every time.”

“He wanted to have sex, and I said that I was still tired, because I _am_ , and that I wanted to wait for you, because I wasn’t sure where anything stood, and if we’d any ground rules, or _something_ , I don’t know how this is supposed to work. And then he just sort of flew off the handle.”

“I think,” Lethe said, carefully. “You might have waited to go to bed last night until he got back as well. He thought you’d be here too.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Pansy, were you awake when he got back last night?”

“No,” she admitted. “I – that casting took a lot out of me.”

“And then –“ Harry considered, then sighed. “And then he suggested sex and you suggested, well, me.”

“I just didn’t think it was a good idea to – jump ahead of the class,” Pansy said. “And I was _tired_.”

“Look, no one’s wrong here.” He stood up and cupped Pansy’s face in his hands before she could protest, kissing her forehead. “He’s upset, everyone’s bloody exhausted, we’ve all been shuffled around and I’m going to guess that no one got much sleep. Go to the professor’s bath and have some tea.” He hugged her, gently. “They had good chocolate pastries at breakfast, I bet the elves have some left.”

“But –“ Pansy said.

“Look,” Harry said, gently. “We’re all a mess. With good reason. We almost got killed, I think Draco had to do more talking about his feelings than he’s probably ever done in his life, you and I recast a quarter of the Hogwarts wards, and Draco’s probably just as exhausted. Go take a bath. We’ll be here when you get back. And it’s just right around the corner, isn’t it?”

“One of them is, yes,” Pansy said, with a sigh.

“Thaxia, you go with,” Harry said. “See if the range will let you.” He reached to touch Lethe’s head. “You, I need. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, all right,” she said. “But if there were sausages –“

“I’m sure I can find you something,” Pansy said.

Harry murmured a charm, covering Pansy’s dressing gown in a set of robes, and nudged her. “Go on. I’m not bailing you two out every time, but this one’s my fault, so I’ll see to it.”

Pansy laughed softly. “Someone’s going to talk to me later, please?”

“Yeah,” Harry promised.

Pansy went out a moment later, leaving Harry with Lethe.

“Go in and let him know I’m coming to apologize in thirty seconds?” Harry said. 

“Thanks,” Lethe said, dryly, but she nudged open the bedroom door. Harry gave it a minute before he followed to where Draco was sitting on the bed, his head bent with his hands wrapped around the back of his neck.

“This bloody bed isn’t even long enough,” he said, finally. “My head’s killing me.”

“It’s not,” Harry agreed, sitting down next to him. “Want to let me try?”

“Yeah, all right,” Draco said, finally. He tensed when Harry slid a hand to the back of his neck, but finally started to relax as Harry rubbed some of the tension out of the muscles.

“I made the wrong call,” Harry said, quietly. “I knew we were all exhausted, and I thought leaving you two to sleep here would give you more room. And this is a very public corridor, I wasn’t sure if you’d be all right with me being here.”

“Of course I’d be all right,” Draco said, irritably. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

Harry laughed softly. “I rather think the third years are going to figure _something_ is going on if I’m sleeping in your rooms,” he pointed out. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly game to tell anyone and everyone, but we could probably ease into that sort of thing. You know – not before we’ve even had a chance to sort this thing for ourselves.”

“Oh,” Draco said. “Yes, but you didn’t –“ He swallowed. “No one would have noticed anything if you’d stayed for a _bit_.”

“No, and I ought to have,” Harry said. “And I asked Pansy to kiss you goodnight for me, but we were both utterly wrecked and she fell asleep. And I should have stayed here or at least come and said goodnight in the tower, but I was exhausted too and I didn’t think of it.”

“Oh,” Draco said, finally. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, with a soft laugh. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t your first thought.”

“No,” Draco said.

“For the record, I’m all in favor of you two without me,” Harry said. “And you and me alone, and, yeah, me and Pansy alone sometimes too. It’s three people, we’re going to have to build our own relationships in there. But she’s right that ground rules probably aren’t the worst idea, none of us have done anything like this before.”

“It just –“ Draco ran a hand through his hair. “Sounded exactly like every other time she’s turned me down, only worse, because she’d rather have had you.”

“I can’t speak for Pansy, but I think she wanted me _here_ , not just me,” Harry said. “At the moment, I think I’m a bit of a security blanket. And we’re going to have to work on that. But I also think –“ He laughed. “Draco, I sort of feel as if I’ve been hit by every bludger on the grounds and then some, and she’s quite honestly more powerful with warding magic than I am by a long shot, she’s had a decade more practice, so I’m guessing she’s far more tapped out. She probably _is_ tired.”

“Oh,” Draco said.

“And so are you, and so am I, and so are all our daemons,” Harry said. “I think I’m just more used to knowing my limits from ten years as an Auror.”

“That’d make sense,” Draco said, with a sigh. “I suppose we’re not doing well on this whole – working things out project.”

“We’re doing...” Harry considered, then laughed, kissing his temple. “We’re human. If we weren’t fucking it up at least a little, I’d be terrified out of my mind. Come on, Pansy’s in the bath around the corner. Doubt she’d object to company. And she’s got tea.”

“And sausages,” Lethe added, looking significantly more relaxed.

“I’m going to go ahead and see if the portrait will let us in,” Harry said. “See you in a minute?”

The portrait was, as Harry recalled, a set of women having tea. He signed internally. “Occupied,” one said, cheerfully. “Sorry. You might try near Gryffindor tower.”

“I’m aware, actually,” Harry said. “Would you mind asking Dr. Malfoy if she minds if Professor Malfoy and myself come in?”

“Oh, _my_ ,” said the portrait, but one of the women disappeared out of the frame. 

“Yes, she says it’s all right,” the woman said a moment later, ruffling her skirts. “Merlin knows why.”

“Lesson plans,” Harry said, cheerfully. “Very critical. Can’t wait. I assure you, she’ll maintain her modesty.”

“Of all the things to discuss in the _bath_ ,” another tutted, but they looked marginally less horrified, and the portrait swung open enough for Harry to step in.

“I rather think you about gave her a heart attack,” Pansy said, floating with her eyes closed. “And there’s muscle relaxing potion in here, so don’t get in if you’ve any intention of moving much.”

“Oh, so now it’s all right to put potions in the taps?” Harry teased, and Kit flicked his tail at him.

“It’s all right?” she said, finally, looking both anxious and exhausted.

“All sorted,” Harry said. “I made a mistake and it multiplied. He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Lesson plans, really, Potter?” Draco said, dryly, stepping through.

“Shut up, I felt like I was ruining their afternoon,” Harry said, laughing. 

“Making it, more like,” Draco said, as Harry slid into the water.

Draco went over to where Pansy was relaxing on a cushion of bubbles, summoning it toward him until he could lean to kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said, crouching next to the pool. “For being – oh, I don’t know, jealous and stupid.” 

“I really am tired,” Pansy said, softly. “It wasn’t a metaphorical headache.”

“I’m the one with the headache,” Draco said, wryly. “That bed’s awful.”

“Get in, it’ll help,” Pansy said, “You’re probably as tense as the rest of us.”

“Worse,” Lethe said, looking up from the plate of sausages she was sharing with Thaxia. “We’ve got to find a new bed. Kit and I had to sleep outside the door.”

“I’ve got an idea about that, but neither of you is messing with it,” Harry said, firmly. “Later.”

“Seriously, Room of Requirement,” Pansy said, drowsily, laughing. 

“God no,” Draco said. “I hate that place.”

“Just get in here,” Pansy said, fondly.

“We could just sleep here,” Harry said, finally feeling his muscles start to loosen. “I doubt Thaxia would let us drown.”

Draco went over to Pansy, who set her head on his shoulder and relaxed back against him with a sigh. “No more yelling, please,” she said.

“No more yelling,” Draco agreed.

Pansy laughed. “Harry’s going to get the wrong impression,” she said, eyes closing. “We don’t normally do that, you know.”

“The past few days have been pretty stressful,” Harry pointed out.

“No, no,” Pansy said. “We have rules. We duel.”

“You _duel_?” Harry said, dubiously. “I’m not certain that’s – I mean, wouldn’t Pansy always win? No offense.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Draco said. “And challenged sets the terms. So it’s not as if I didn’t win the one where it was name as many plant species as you could in ten minutes.”

“His are never wands,” Pansy said, with a rather put upon sigh. “It’s very trying.”

“So you –“ Harry said, still trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yes, we duel, and then it’s done, and we move on,” Pansy said, with a shrug. “And loser has to figure out a solution to whatever it was, or owes an apology, but the only time we ever have free is evenings, so it’s usually been twenty-four hours and everyone’s slept on it and nobody’s mad anymore.”

“So it’s really like, you walk away, you get some sleep, you do something together you both enjoy, and _then_ you sort it,” Harry pointed out, laughing.

“Ugh,” Pansy said. “He’s made it all Gryffindor.”

“That’s not it at all, Potter, it’s dueling,” Draco said, firmly.

“I thought –“ Pansy considered, looking up at Draco fondly. “I thought I should tell you, I feel like you keep seeing the hard parts, but it’s not all hard parts.”

“No,” Draco agreed, kissing the top of her head. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I may be fond of having you around.”

Pansy laughed. “He means that we love each other and have a life together,” she said. “And that we’re mostly happy.”

“Says you,” Draco said. “I have to live with the inferior washroom. I would hardly call my existence happy.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Pansy said, firmly, leaning up to press a kiss to Draco’s jaw.

“You know, in case you haven’t noticed, I _have_ been around for a while,” Harry said, dryly. “It’s not as if I don’t know you love one another.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not an act,” Pansy said. “We’re even more disgustingly affectionate in private, it’s rather sad.”

“It really is,” Kit said, and Harry blinked twice at the sight of a panther swimming past him. “They refuse to install a better fireplace so they have an excuse to cuddle all winter.”

“We’ve discussed this, the brickwork is historic,” Pansy said. She paused. “Er. I suppose it _was_ historic. Now it’s going to be all – covered in fish slime and pond muck.”

Harry snorted. “Point made,” he said. “I appreciate you letting me see the parts that don’t work so easily.”

Draco shifted to look at him. “We’re not _letting_ you, Potter,” he said. “We’re asking you. And showing you the ugly bits up front. If we wanted you and all we showed you was us spooning on the couch and teasing one another, of course you’d be interested. It would seem ideal.”

“Yes, well, it is ideal, most of the time,” Pansy said, with a smile. “Neither of us is interested in you because you’re –“ She considered. “You’re not filling in any gaps. We just think you’d complement nicely.”

“The thing where you talk in ‘we’ is a bit disturbing,” Harry replied, laughing. “But I take your point.” He considered. “Though, ah – strictly speaking, just out of curiosity, why me? And why now?”

“Before you weren’t here before now?” Lethe said.

Harry managed to splash water in her face. “That’s a ridiculous answer.”

“Well, it’s not as if we could get to know you before now,” Pansy said. “I mean, beyond what we knew in school, which was sort of that you were a self-absorbed prat.”

“Don’t start,” Thaxia said. She was sitting in a low pool that had appeared for her. “We were.”

“I was a little busy _fighting Voldemort_ ,” Harry said, then glanced at them. “And is that going to be an issue?”

“What, the fact that neither of us, at seventeen, was quite sure enough to reject our family in favor of the side of goodness and light and unicorns?” Draco said, lightly. “I don’t know, Potter, is it? It’s all well and good when everyone you care about is already on the side of moral superiority. It’s a bit harder when you’re giving up your whole life.”

“Point taken,” Harry said. “Though it’s not as if the Blacks didn’t make a habit of it.”

“Everyone Sirius Black cared about was _at school_ ,” Draco said. “Aunt Andromeda was in love, and she’d made a new family for herself, and even so, if you ask her, I don’t think she’d say it was an easy decision. And Regulus – well, all right, he was either spectacularly brave or spectacularly stupid for his age, but you can’t make an entire case out of one person.”

“Still,” Harry said. “Did you want that life? The way you’ve said your parents were…”

Pansy made a low noise. “It was what we both _knew_ ,” she said. “It’s the only thing we’d ever known. And we were children. I’m not saying –“ She paused. “I’m not saying everyone isn’t grateful that you gave up your childhood to do what was, in retrospect, the right thing, but I’m also not saying that anyone ought to have asked you to do it, or Weasley, or Granger. You’ll never convince me that Dumbledore was worth all the hero worship. And you might consider that part of Draco’s utter contempt for the Weasleys is that they didn’t protect their children.”

“And your parents kept you well out of it, did they?” Thaxia said, irritably.

“No one ever asked me to take the mark or participate in some sort of blood genocide,” Pansy said. “The most that was asked of me was to stay in my bedroom when my parents had people over.”

Kit made an irritated noise. “And it’s not as if they locked us in.”

“Mine didn’t,” Draco said. “And I can’t stand them for it. So it’s not as if I’ve got some sort of double standard, Potter. I just don’t believe that children ought to be fighting their parents’ wars.”

“I rather think it was everyone’s war,” Harry said. 

“And you didn’t get a choice, no one protected you, and we are sorry for that,” Pansy said, firmly. “But a bunch of fifteen year olds shouldn’t have been in the middle of it. And please don’t expect –“ She paused. “We will have children, someday, and we’d rather they get to be _children_. They can spend fifth year sneaking around to snog in Astronomy Tower, not fighting adults who are trying to _murder_ them.”

“Well, the war’s over,” Harry said, finally. “I think we want that for all of them.”

“And we’re not stupid enough to think there will never be another,” Draco said. “That’s non-negotiable. And heritage…” He sighed. “Neither of us likes our parents, Potter, neither of us is going to put stock in blood purity, but there’s knowledge that ought to be passed down. The kind of knowledge that saved you the other night.”

“I hadn’t thought about it, all right?” Harry said, with a sigh. “I – children are a bit of a sore topic. Ginny was ready, I wasn’t, her entire family wanted it, it was just one more thing to fall apart over.”

“Why do we have to talk about _her_ again?” Thaxia said, with a sigh, putting her head on her paws. “Besides, it wasn’t just you, I didn’t want them yet either.”

“Of course you weren’t ready,” Pansy said. “I mean – Granger and Weasley, that’s all well and good, Granger’s smart enough to raise good children already. It’s not as if any of you were really children for very long.”

“What’s your definition of ‘good’?” Harry said, pausing.

“Loved,” Pansy said, firmly. “With the resources to care for them. And with parents and their daemons who know their own values and have the strength to protect them when they need it from things and people that oughtn’t come calling.” She considered. “I couldn’t have done the casting I did the other night at twenty, Potter. I don’t want children until I know enough to keep them safe and to make them happy and to teach them how to be decent people. And I’ve got to be old enough to know that children are not playing pieces in adult games. Kit’s got to be ready, too. And Lethe. They’ll have a daemon to protect too.”

Harry paused. “It’s funny, you know,” he said. “I tried to say something like that to Ginny once, and she threw China at my head.”

“Well, we’d duel you,” Lethe said. “But you won’t change our minds.”

“He’s saying he doesn’t want you to,” Draco said, looking at Harry. “If I weren’t here and I found out any _one_ thing that happened to you as a child had happened to one of mine, I would burn the headmaster’s office to the ground.”

“I’d probably just have transferred you to another school, but I suppose we’ll have to have our differences,” Pansy said. “Though I’m with him. I would never, in a thousand years, have stood for what Dumbledore did to you lot. I would burn this _school_ to the ground if I ever found out that sort of thing was happening again.” She paused. “And I’m old enough to know that the way Snape treated you was wrong, even if he treated us well. I will never stand for that sort of behavior.”

Draco snorted. “And I’ve very little doubt that she’s going to end up as Headmistress someday, so don’t take her threats lightly.”

“Right,” Harry said, finally. “So we all think children ought to be cherished and loved and protected, and that professors oughtn’t bully them, and no one’s in any rush to have any?”

“Well, I don’t know, maybe in the next decade,” Pansy mused. “Depending on how all of you feel.” She glanced at Harry. “And I suppose you’ll need a heir. We’ll have to go digging for Potter family history, you wouldn’t know it, but that’s hardly insurmountable.”

“Did you really just –“ Harry said, with a gesture, in faint disbelief.

“Yes,” Thaxia said. “And you think their ideas are much better than anyone’s but Hermione’s, so don’t bother arguing.” She jumped onto one of the steps, climbing onto Kit, who was lounging in the shallows. “Besides. I _would_ raise a daemon with Kit and Lethe. Not in a million years with _him_ as my co-parent.”

Draco laughed. “Oh, do share, now I’m curious as to Granger’s parenting philosophy. And rather curious about Anathaxia.”

“Something about not too many sweets and having at least a hundred books in the house at the appropriate reading level and –“ Harry waved a hand. “I honestly don’t know. I think it boils down to, ‘love them and read to them a lot.’ And Thaxia can speak for herself.”

“Oh, well, _that’s_ just sensible,” Pansy said. “Of course they’ll be read to. Thaxia?”

“He was all –“ Thaxia growled. “No. I wouldn’t. He might mess them up. Kit and Lethe are nice.” She paused. “I might be difficult, but I’m not difficult to _babies_.”

“We know, Thaxia,” Pansy said, gently. “And we don’t think you’re difficult. Just you.”

“Ginny’s daemon is a sparrow hawk,” Harry said, with a sigh. “Neither of them would ever tell me what happened in the Chamber of Secrets second year, but she’s refused to like him ever since. You weren’t even _set_ yet, I don’t see how you can have held a grudge this long.”

“He’s not for us,” Thaxia said, firmly. “I’ve nothing against Ginny as a person and they’re welcome to exist somewhere else, but I wouldn’t hate him so much if we were a good match for them.”

“Point to Thaxia,” Draco said. “Potter, why did you –“

“Youthful stupidity, can we please move on?” Harry muttered.

“Yes, yes, back to Granger,” Pansy said, considering. “Does this mean we have Granger as a godparent option?”

“ _Granger_?” Draco said, then paused. “Hm. Granger.”

“I like Granger,” Kit said. “She’s sensible.”

“There’s also some sort of clause about allowing family members to sneak them off for outings to joke shops and to feed ducks and that sort of thing,” Harry warned. “And Ron comes with Hermione.”

“Damn,” Draco said, with a sigh. “We’ll have inherited the Granger-Weasleys.”

“Horrors, you hate their children and Granger,” Lethe said, dryly.

“Er, probably quite a few Weasleys, and Teddy,” Harry admitted. “I don’t expect you to – ah, get on with Molly or Arthur, but Ron’s brothers aren’t so bad. Well.” He paused. “Percy’s sort of a wet blanket, but it’s not as if he’d be a bad influence unless you’re concerned about them learning too much about tax law.”

“Teddy is already family,” Pansy said. “And I’m sure we’ll work it out with the rest of them. But please don’t ask me to get near your ex-fiancee.” 

“Me either,” Draco said, after a pause.

Harry laughed. “So the jealousy thing, not just Draco?”

“You had a lot of good sex and she got to date you and get photos of her with your grandmother’s engagement ring in the papers,” Pansy said, making a face. “And we haven’t had any sex yet, or gone on any dates, and I do not have a truly enormous diamond. I’m not winning yet, so no, I cannot see her. Once I’ve won and gotten to keep you and she’s very sorry, then I’ll reconsider.”

“We really were just sort of a terrible match, you can’t entirely blame her for that,” Harry pointed out.

“Potter, it’s not about that,” Draco said, shaking his head. “It’s – Slytherins lay claim to things. Pansy wants the better claim.” He paused. “Actually, me too, though she can have the ring in a few years.”

“All right, all right,” Harry said, laughing. “It’s in my Gringotts vault if you’d like to covet it at some point.”

“No need,” Pansy said, yawning. “I’ve copies of all the provenance paperwork.” She paused. “Well. If we’re ever there for some other reason. No need to make a special trip.”

Draco grinned. “Yes, her patronus _is_ a dragon. Funny how the tattoo’s different. Daemons as patroni, I mean.”

“I would eat a dementor,” Kit mused.

“Me too,” Thaxia said. “Though I don’t suspect they’d taste good.”

Harry paused, glancing at Draco. “I haven’t seen it,” he said. “But I’m willing to bet about a hundred galleons that yours is a sphinx.”

“No bet,” Draco said, laughing.

“Apparently my tattoo was representative, I’ve got a phoenix for that too,” Harry said. “Though at the moment I’m a bit sorry it isn’t a hippogriff.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Lethe warned.

“You know, this lovely diversion into our theoretical future children aside, you didn’t answer me,” Harry said, dryly. “Why me?”

“Oh,” Pansy said, considering. “I mean. We agree you’re rather fit.”

“Yes, and you’re inviting me into your marriage because I’m attractive, and I’m sure I’m the only person you’ve ever _both_ found attractive,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Pansy shrugged. “You share our values,” she said. “We both like you. You make sense. It’s not as if we were _planning_ on it, but we’ll be happier with you than without.”

“ _I_ share your values,” Harry said, dubiously.

“Yes,” Draco said. “You value the same qualities, you’re loyal, you’re kind to the people you care about, you aren’t ashamed of being ambitious and wanting power but you’re not going to go all insane and start shoving bits of Thaxia into boxes and things and having a fake snake daemon, and you’re – oh, I don’t know.”

“Passionate about things,” Pansy supplied.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you two are very weird.”

“Yes, and you want in, so you must like it,” Pansy said. “Oh, all right, I do want to see the ring.”

“She’s going to be insufferable until he gives it to her, you know,” Kit said.

“I’m not letting you write your name on it,” Harry warned.

“Not even the box?” Pansy said.

“ _No_ ,” Harry said. “But I think some of my mother’s jewelry is in there, you might have a piece of that.”

“Did you give one to horrible girl Weasley?” Pansy said.

“No, I did not,” Harry said. “Though actually, I hadn’t gotten the goblins to do an accounting of the vault because I didn’t realize you ought to do that sort of thing for insurance purposes until I started my own, so I didn’t even know it was in there.” He paused. “Don’t ever try to combine vaults, it’s a bloody nightmare.”

“Who would do that?” Draco said, making a face.

“I agree, Potter, we could have told you that was a terrible idea,” Pansy agreed. “Kit, do I care if girl Weasley didn’t get it because he didn’t know about it?”

“No,” Kit said. “Because you’ll still have it and she won’t.”

“True,” Pansy said. “All right. I accept your counter offer.”

“And god only knows what’s in the Blacks’,” Harry mused. “There was some sort of oddity because Regulus designated Sirius as his heir until he had children, so when their parents died, I’ve no idea, the goblins had to have some sort of legal – go about. But I gather goblins don’t like dead vaults, so they found some sort of way around it. And I was Sirius’ heir, so I’ve got that too. The accounting’s drawn up, I’ve just never gone through it. They removed any dark objects and compensated me accordingly.”

“So what you’re saying is, Potter, you’ve got more Gringotts vaults than you know what to do with,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

“Only, er, four,” Harry said. “Mine, my parents’, Sirius’, and his parents’. Well, and I’m the secondary to Andromeda on Teddy’s, but they’ve never needed me.”

“That’s just garish,” Draco said.

“Indeed,” Pansy said. “I shall have to go through everything with the goblins to ensure it’s in proper order.” She sighed. “And to haggle with them over the compensation, they’ve inevitably shorted you since you didn’t _barter_.”

“God forbid,” Lethe muttered.

“By all means,” Harry said, laughing. “Though for the record, there’s now a fair number of girl Weasleys. You can’t call Ginny that.”

“Oh, right,” Pansy said, with a sigh. “Horrible girl Weasley really doesn’t narrow it down enough?”

“She’s not horrible,” Harry said. “Besides, I hardly ever see her, she and Dean live in France.”

“Plus we might make a point of avoiding family gatherings where she’s going to show up,” Thaxia muttered.

“Ginevra, isn’t it?” Draco said.

“Or, you know, Ginny,” Harry said. “Non-horrible Ginny.”

“Ex-fiancee Weasley,” Pansy decided. “The Weasley we don’t like.”

“I thought you disliked all of them,” Harry said, with a pause.

“Well, we’re stuck with one because he’s married to Granger,” Pansy mused. “But he was very kind the other night. And Bill’s all right, we like Fleur. And the one with dragons can’t be all bad. So that just leaves, er, the other ones.” 

Harry snorted. “George and Percy. Everyone’s all over the place, Ron and Hermione host family dinners these days,” he said.

“Are we going to –“ Pansy paused. “Potter, you’re asking us to go to those.”

“Well, no, I suppose I could just go,” Harry said. “I mean –“ He paused. “I don’t know how public you want to be with this whole thing.”

“No clue,” Draco mused. “But I think Pansy’s saying that if you don’t allow her to have as much time in proximity to Granger as possible, she won’t be happy.”

“I concur,” Thaxia said. “You can’t keep Pansy from Hermione, that would be cruel. And I want our children to be around Tiphaine, otherwise they’ll grow up with warped Slytherin senses of humor. Atticus is all well and good, but she likes to play jokes.”

Harry groaned. “Thaxia,” he said. “I’ve been in this relationship two days and I think we’re having discussions you have in the second _year_.”

“No sympathy,” she said. “You picked Slytherins. And you kept leaving the three of us out of the conversation because it’s all –” She licked a paw. “Boringly human. Or entirely about sex.”

“He’s right,” Lethe said, yawning. “This isn’t contract negotiation. We could talk about more pleasant things. Or nap. I like naps.”

“I also like naps,” Kit said. “And Pansy’s falling asleep.”

“I wasn’t,” Pansy said, with a yawn. 

“Sorry, I’m still stuck on the idea of having extended family,” Draco said, dryly. “But I wasn’t going to let her drown.”

“That’s not an issue, is it?” Harry said. “Rose and Hugo are great, and Victoire and Dominique are very smart, and, er – honestly, it’s probably nice. To have a big family.”

“Purebloods usually have a heir and a spare,” Draco said, dryly. “And neither of our parents bothered with the spare, all the better for us, they can’t disown us or the fortune might go to someone unfit. So this whole enormous family concept is a bit strange.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think that trait’s going to continue,” Harry said, laughing. “Hermione’s very firmly done with two, and Fleur says she’s not having any more on the risk that it’s another boy. I gather she’s not having a very pleasant pregnancy. Though I think they planned to stop at three anyway.”

“Cousins are good for children,” Pansy said. “Though let’s prioritize the cousins raised by Granger.”

“Rose is a terror,” Harry warned. “She can already read, and there’s no locking spell or lock on earth that can stand up to her if she’s really set on it.”

“Perfect,” Pansy said. “Intelligent and good at magic. Everything you could want in a cousin.”

“Well, yes, sort of,” Harry said, laughing. “But I’m biased.”

Kit got out, dripping, and shook. “You can pick names later,” he said. “Pansy, you need sleep. I don’t feel well.”

“What?” Pansy said, frowning. “You didn’t say.”

“You dipped far enough down into your magic that you took some of mine,” Kit said, with a yawn. “Ours. That reserve. _Twice_. So could we kindly get some rest?”

Pansy rolled off Draco, hanging on the edge of the pool to go nose to nose with Kit. “I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s nothing that rest won’t fix,” he said, a little irritably. “And now you’ll fuss.”

“Thaxia, are you all right?” Harry said, concerned.

“Yes,” she said. “We’re different. Pansy has –“ She paused. “Someone else explain, he won’t get it if I say.”

Draco rolled his shoulders. “Pansy’s got a lot of raw magic, and it doesn’t bleed off her as easily as it does you and me because she doesn’t work with magical things or do a lot of wandless casting,” he said. “So Kit holds the extra. If he starts getting too full, she does complex castings and burns it off.” He snorted. “Last time she warded all her NEWT students against any damage, got something to mark the spells they’d been hit by on the board, and had them all come at her at once.”

“She won,” Lethe said, a bit smugly. “They all died horrific deaths.”

“Oh, come on, that’s hardly fair, Connors survived perfectly fine, he did the reasonable thing and hid himself in the hallway with an invisibility charm,” she said. “And they’re only seventh years, you can’t expect the world.”

Harry snorted. “You sound as if you’re not challenged enough,” he said. “We ought to let Bill duel you. He’s ludicrously good. Or Hermione, come to think of it.”

“It would be the most technically proficient duel ever held,” Draco said, dryly.

“It would involve beautiful casting,” Thaxia said, with a happy sigh. “I love technique.”

“She’s not mine, I swear,” Harry said. “Switched in infancy.”

“Well, it’s true no one gets us,” Thaxia said. “But I’m still yours.”

“Hardly true,” Draco said. “You make perfect sense to me.”

“And me,” Pansy said. “I’ve stuffed all my magic into Kit, Draco’s stuffed all his philosophizing into Lethe, and Harry’s stuffed all his prickly bits into you.”

“We’re not _banks_ ,” Lethe said.

“Speaking of prickly bits, _I need to sleep_ ,” Kit said, gently cuffing the back of Pansy’s head. “And I’m nearly willing to drag you down the hallway naked to get back to bed if you don’t hurry up.”

“He’s right,” Draco said, firmly, kissing her forehead. “You’ve got to get some rest.”

“And you won’t fit,” Kit said. “I want to get close.” His eyes narrowed. “I keep letting you alone because it’s been a mess, but it’s hardly my fault I’m not Thaxia’s size.”

“Hush,” Pansy said, gently, stroking his head. “I’m sorry. Sleeping outside the bedroom was rather awful, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kit said, looking sulky.

“Why don’t you take my room?” Harry said. “It’s – well, the décor’s awful, but the bed’s bigger.”

“Yes, because that makes sense for two large daemons and two people versus you and Thaxia,” Kit said, with a low growl. “What a lovely idea. I wonder why it didn’t occur to anyone when they moved our things.”

“It’s very red and gold, you’ll probably have nightmares,” Harry said. 

“I’ll have some steaks sent,” Draco said. “Large ones.” He kissed Pansy again. “Darling, if you’re that tired, go back to bed with Kit.”

“Not optional,” Kit said, and Pansy stroked his face.

“I’m not arguing, sweet,” she said. “Just let me get dry. And get you dry.”

“Draco can do all the casting, he’s not all tapped out,” Kit muttered.

“Done,” Draco said.

Lethe snorted when Harry and Draco both turned to look as Pansy climbed out. “Boys,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Sorry,” Harry said, laughing. “She’s distracting.” He held a hand up. “And I won’t talk any more, you two go sleep. Let me walk you to my rooms, though.”

“I’ll order the steaks,” Draco said. “You’ll meet me back in our temporary, horrific quarters, Harry?”

“Sure,” Harry said, climbing out too. He snorted. “Stop that, Malfoy.”

“Well, there’s no rush for _me_ ,” Draco said. “Might as well enjoy the view.”

“He’s awful, isn’t he?” Pansy said. Draco rolled his eyes and cast the drying charms on all of them.

Kit ate about ten pounds of snake and a roast before glaring at the lion hung over the mantle and sprawling out in Harry’s bed, and Pansy was out before Harry had even transfigured the blankets into something warmer.

“I don’t even –“ Draco said, when he got back, with a sigh. “Potter, I don’t suppose you know the charm for heightening doorways?”

“Not in the least,” Harry said. “But I’ve a solution for the whole thing, at least.”

“Cave in?” Draco suggested, sounding rather grouchy.

“No, the Herbology tower,” Harry said. “We lost the entire Potions classroom and all the storage, and it’s one of the few places left that’s got plenty of below ground space. The tower’s big enough for the main Potions wing, and there are floors above that McGonagall says haven’t been used in ages.”

“Floors, as in multiple,” Draco said, slowly.

“The whole tower’s ours to do whatever we’d like with as long as I can keep you from storming her office with complaints about living arrangements,” Harry said, laughing. “And Martingale and the advanced Transfiguration students will be by after lunch to do the architecture. And I’ve roped ours into helping too.” He considered. “Well. Roped is a strong word. They volunteered, apparently they’d _like_ their classroom back.”

“They like the course, Potter,” Draco said, dryly. “You’re rubbish at brewing, but you’re a rather brilliant lecturer.”

“Oh,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I had some ideas. We’ll have to do the living quarters ourselves, I suppose, but at least that means it’s what we want.” He paused. “I suppose we could put bedrooms on the second floor if you wanted to – keep up appearances.”

“No, I don’t,” Draco said. “I’m not about to go around advertising my personal life, but I’m not hiding it, either.”

“It’d leave us with room for some experimental designs,” Harry mused. “D’you remember that article about captive shark reproduction and –“

“Yes, yes, the effects of constraining the kelp and the detriment of magical filtration.”

“Well, I found this sort of thing on terrariums,” Harry said. “D’you want to go have a look at the space and see what you think?”

“You’re an idiot, Potter,” Draco said, fondly. “Of course I do.”

“Oh no,” said Thaxia. “They’re going to get all academic about it.”

“I’m taking a nap,” Lethe said. “So this whole architecture thing had better not be too noisy.”

“I rather think it’s going to involve a lot of moving stone and building walls and washrooms,” Harry said, dryly. “Sorry, Lethe.”

“Damn it,” Lethe muttered.

“Come on,” Draco said. “Martingale will want plans. And I’ve no idea where they put anything at all with the stores.”

Thaxia leapt for Draco’s shoulders. “Don’t forget I’m small,” she said. “You’re not allowed to put in benches and things for Lethe and Kit and no perches for me.”

“I was thinking about self-sustaining magical ecosystems and whether or not anyone had exposed my fire lizard scales to heat,” Draco said, dryly. “But I’m sure Potter will ensure you’re adequately cared for.”

“Slytherins,” Thaxia muttered. “Always focusing on entirely the wrong thing. It’s your job too now, you know.”

“Yes, well, I promise to put plenty of thought into the bed,” Draco said. “If it’s any consolation.”

“And you’ll derive absolutely no benefit whatsoever,” Lethe said.

“None,” Draco agreed, with a low glance at Harry.

“How’s Pansy feel about surprises?” Harry said.

“Well,” Draco said, slowly. “On the one hand, she generally hates them. On the other, I know what she likes, and –“ He flushed. “Look, let’s just say that I wasn’t the only one unhappy with our sleeping arrangements last night.” 

Harry laughed. “So basically, you’re spoiled after one whole night of sharing.”

“We can’t keep an eye on you if you’re across the castle,” Draco said, irritably. “And neither of us likes change much, so if you’re staying, we’d rather you be here already.”

“It takes some getting used to,” Thaxia murmured. “All this – future stuff in a hurry. It’s barely even been a few days.”

“Yes, well, there are good reasons,” Draco said, suddenly sounding a little unsure. “Potter? Is that her or you?”

“She’s thinking out loud,” Harry said. “I’m –“ He considered. “Taken aback, maybe, but fine. I already told you I was committed, I just suppose I’d thought it would unfold a bit more… slowly.”

“Is this too fast?” Draco said.

“No,” Harry said, honestly. “It’s just a different style of doing things, isn’t it? Ordinarily, you’d date someone for years and figure all of it out, but the more traditional way seems to be to put it all on the table and decide if you’re compatible or not.”

“Arranged marriages are still quite common,” Draco said. “And it’s not necessarily a pureblood thing, either.”

“Well,” Harry said, considering. “Look, I value intimacy over passion, I’m picky about who I’m interested in and who I’m not and I’m not inclined to change position on it, and I’m old enough to know what I want and to start building that life with other people. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to have children tomorrow or that moving in together isn’t going to take some getting used to, but…”

“But your daemons match,” Thaxia interrupted. “Once we know, we know. You lot just take a while to catch up, sometimes.”

“She’s right,” Lethe said. “They belong with us.” She tilted her head at Draco. “Kit and I love each other, but we’re too similar. Thaxia’s different. And Harry’s different. So she’ll make us a better pair by being around, and he’ll make you and Pansy better too.”

“Opinionated,” Draco said, rubbing her head. “But right, I suppose.”

“Everyone gets an office and we’ll add another room in case anyone needs – I don’t know, a break, if it feels too fast,” Harry said. “All right?”

“All right,” Draco said. “It doesn’t, though.” He laughed. “I mean – some parts, maybe. This, no.”

“Slytherins,” Thaxia said, with a sigh. “All hung up on sex and no qualms about marriage and babies.” 

“That wasn’t really –“ Draco started.

“It was exactly what you meant,” Lethe interrupted. “Now bring Harry and your books so we can do whatever it is you have to do so that _I_ can nap while you create your terrarium. I’ve had daemons clinging to me for days, I need time alone.” She glanced up at Thaxia. “Not you. You can nap with me, if you’d like.”

“Maybe,” Thaxia said. “I _might_ want to see the terrarium experiment.”

“Well, it’s not going to be a _literal_ terrarium,” Draco pointed out.

Thaxia sighed. “I’m _aware_ ,” she said. “I might want to see anyway. And that’s why I called it a terrarium _experiment_.”

“Come on, Lethe,” Harry said, laughing. “I’ll transfigure you something to sleep on while Draco and Thaxia argue designs.”

He headed into the hall while Draco gathered books and paper, leaning to wait and not entirely surprised when Lethe came ahead to join him.

She rubbed her head against Harry’s leg. “We’re all out of sorts. My pack feels too spread out, and Kit’s grumpy, and we’re not used to feeling so many new things all at once or them being so volatile all of a sudden. It’s been years. Thaxia’s more adventurous.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry said, gently. “So we’ll get this done and then settle in, all right?”

“Kit and I are steady,” Lethe said. “And Thaxia’s far more mercurial. But that’s a reflection of things in you.”

“You know, I do know what it means to have a daemon, and I’m not sure what that has to do with the price of tea in China,” Harry said, laughing softly.

“I just meant, you’re the steady one in the _people_ ,” Lethe said. “So keep them steady too.”

“I will,” Harry promised, stroking her head. 

He knelt next to her. “If you need rest as badly as Kit does, say so.”

“No, I just need to be away from –“ Lethe shook her head. “You and Draco and Thaxia, that’s all right. But I can’t do any other daemons. The children, last night… they were all very frightened. It’s a privilege to be a comfort, but it’s not an easy thing.”

“I’ll make sure you get some space,” Harry murmured. 

“Good,” Lethe said. “And don’t forget Thaxia’s perches. She’ll be put out. And a spot for her in the bed.” She considered. “Sometimes Kit and I want to be on our own together while Pansy and Draco are together too. So I imagine Thaxia might feel the same way. I doubt it was that way with Ginevra’s daemon, but it happens. When you’re with someone else.”

“I’m going to make sure everyone gets what they need,” Harry said, firmly.

Lethe nipped his hand. “Yourself too,” she reminded him. “It’s not just everyone else, Harry, even if you’ve a tendency to think that way.”

“I can tell that between you and Pansy, I’m not going to be allowed to get away with much self-neglect,” he said, laughing softly. “I’ll make sure I get what I need too.”

“I’ll let Thaxia bite you if you don’t,” Lethe said, solemnly. Harry snorted.

“I had to be a certain person for a lot of people for a lot of years,” he admitted. “But I don’t know how much of it was _them_ and how much of it is me.”

Lethe tilted her head at him. “Harry, you’re kind,” she said, simply. “And you watch out for your pack so no one falls behind or feels as if they’re not running in the same line of paw prints. You make him talk more than he likes, but he always knows where he stands with you, so he can never talk himself into thinking he’s not safe. That’s important. You lead well, and you do it so casually that no one notices you’re doing it. And you don’t think about it, most of the time.”

She nudged her nose against his shoulder, leaning on him for a moment. “You were like that in school too, you know. But now you know it about yourself, so you’re more thoughtful.”

Harry ran his fingers through her fur. “I don’t like boasting,” he said, firmly. “And I’m no better than anyone else.”

“We all have _skills_ , Harry,” Lethe said. “One of yours just happens to be making other people feel as if they’re in the right pack and that they belong there. And that they’re safe. Those are important things to wolves, Harry, and we’re wolves.”

“And Kit?” Harry said.

“Inscrutable,” she said. “But you read Pansy well, even when she’s doing everything she can to throw you off her scent. And independent, they don’t like relying on anyone else. They’ve come to trust me and Draco over the years, but you’re more insistent on it.”

“On what?” Harry said, laughing. “A lack of independence? I rather think she’s her own witch.”

Lethe made a low, irritated noise. “Trust and intimacy as relationship values,” she said. “And it’s what I said. You make people feel safe. And you, somewhat surprisingly, have convinced Pansy and Draco to let you make them feel safe too. It’s singular and rare and you oughtn’t take it for granted, because they have trouble letting their guard down even around one another. They’re not cold, but you’re better about being warm.” She looked at him, until Harry felt as if she was looking through him. “Think about it, Harry. Why are we as we are? A smaller cat isn’t so different from a bigger one. But when you’re an eleven-year-old girl and you want to feel safe, a panther is much better and significantly more intimidating than a wildcat.”

“So you’re telling me not to screw it up,” Harry said, softly.

“I’m telling you that you belong,” Lethe corrected. “Like you’ve done for everyone else. Now come along, I think they’ve stopped entirely to argue over a book chapter.”

Harry and Draco had an hour to argue and sketch things out before Martingale and the students arrived, which proved to be just enough time to decide things without giving Draco time to overthink everything and try to talk him into starting fresh.

There was a rather large gaggle of students, at least a few of whom Harry didn’t recognize, though there was a group that was standing away from Martingale, gesturing. Harry recognized one from the time or two he’d stopped by Pansy’s advanced seventh year class, but he was surprised from the mix of ties colors and robes to realize that it was the Gryffindors and Slytherins who had grouped off together.

He left Draco to start discussing plans for Potions storage with Martingale and went over.

“Hello – King, isn’t it?” he said, to a tall, lanky boy with a fruit bat daemon. “I’m afraid Dr. Malfoy is resting.”

“No worries, Professor, we heard what they all was doing and came to help,” the Gryffindor said, extending a hand. “The way we see it, we owe you for everything you’ve done the other night. And last.”

“I suppose word’s gotten around about the wards,” Harry said, dryly, and the boy laughed.

“Gossip about here, never,” he said. He shrugged. “Some of us aren’t any good at moving stones around, but we’ll help you levitate your things back here since you gave your home up to keep out the nasties down below. And Lexington’s a right trick with building things, her da was a –” He turned to a short, blonde Slytherin, whom Harry _did_ know; she was the Head Girl and one of the better students in his Potions class. “Architure?”

“Architect,” she said, laughing. Her sugar glider daemon poked her head out of her pocket and then ducked back down; Lexington was one of the few students with a same sex daemon, though Harry had learned a long time ago that it didn’t mean anything people usually assumed. “My mother’s a designer, they’ve got a firm in London. Posh houses, that sort of thing.” She grinned. “And astonishingly enough, the Hogwarts library has books on interior design. Hello, Professor Potter.”

“Miss Lexington, always a pleasure,” he said. “Evamine, if you’re awake in there.” 

“I’ve no idea what any of that muggle gobbledygook was,” King said. “But I think she means she can help with walls ‘n paintin’ ‘n that sort of thing.”

“What about you?” Harry said to Lexington, surprised. “It’s all well and good to be helping us sort this out, but I feel rather as if I’m putting you out, considering you’re still in sleeping bags on the Astronomy Tower floor.”

He was surprised to hear McGonagall answer.

“Professor Martingale and Dr. Malfoy’s advanced classes seem to have talked the Gryffindors into sharing Gryffindor Tower for the remainder of the term until further renovations can be made,” McGonagall replied, her tone revealing nothing. “The castle has obligingly provided additional beds and space and a room for Miss Lexington.”

“Gryffindor and Slytherin,” Harry said, blankly.

“We’re calling it Yule Tower for now,” King said, with a grin, slinging an arm around Lexington, who snorted and shoved him off again. “And if anyone complains, they can take it up with _our_ Head Girl.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Harry said.

King shook his head. “It’s just decent, is all,” he said. “Ravenclaw’s too full, they don’t want to bunk up with the Hufflepuffs, no offense to ‘em, and they just lost their dungeons to some spooks and critters.” He shrugged. “Plus, a lot of us are paired up for classes anyhow, we thought it’d help with studying for midterms.”

“It’s true, Charms is going to be awful,” Lexington said, with a sigh. “And we’ve both got to get at least an “exceeds expectations,” I’m applying to St. Mungo’s this summer and he’s going to apply to Auror training. Plus we’re _all_ a bit doomed on Dr. Malfoy’s, it’s going to be another practical.”

King sighed. “Someone said something about the lake. I dunno if even Dr. Malfoy’s that evil, though.”

“She’s not evil, she just wants us to be prepared,” Lexington said. “Besides, you were singing her praises last week when she said you had excellent casting form.”

“ _Last_ week,” King said.

“Well,” Harry said. “A hundred points each to Gryffindor and Slytherin houses for their –“ He looked upward. “Dedication to overcoming past differences. And a strong hint that the Potions final this term will involve medium to difficult level medical potions, so I’d study up with Hare and Burke’s text.”

“Oh, good,” Lexington said, with a sigh of relief. “I’ve been studying that for St. Mungo’s anyway.”

“We’ll pass it along, Professor,” King said. “Though I don’t suppose –“

“I haven’t the faintest clue what Dr. Malfoy’s planning,” Harry said, dryly. “But in the interest of fairness, I’ll suggest at the next faculty meeting that each NEWT course containing both Gryffindors and Slytherins be advised of a particularly useful text. Mine will be Waterborough’s Treatise on African Magical Species, for the record.”

“Brilliant!” King said, beaming, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d best get back to helping.”

“Nicely done, Professor Potter,” McGonagall murmured. “Though I’m rather interested to know the location of Dr. Malfoy.”

“Overdid it casting last night,” he said. “Kitcaron threw a fit. She’s asleep in my room.” He glanced at McGonagall. “You might want to avoid Malfoy, their temporary bedroom didn’t fit him _or_ the daemons.”

“Do you know, I rather think I shall ensure that I’m not working on the same floor,” McGonagall said, cheerfully. “But I suppose I may as well help Martingale in the meanwhile. I do so rarely get to do anything _practical_ these days.”

Somewhat to his own surprise, Harry ended up on the top floor with Lexington and one of Martingale’s Transfiguration students, a Hufflepuff named Savage whose toucan daemon got stared down by Evamine from Lexington’s pocket and rapidly tucked her head and beak rather ineffectually behind a wing, asleep or at least pretending to be. Draco and Thaxia had quite firmly claimed the second floor with his habitats – a little ironic, Harry thought, since _his_ creatures were going in them, but he supposed Draco’s plants counted just as much – and McGonagall and their potions students were supervising the store rooms and the first floor.

“Right, so I suppose we’ll need three washrooms and two suites,” Savage said, a bit dubiously. “I’m not sure how we’ll fit all that.”

“Firstly, you ought to know about the principles of borrowing space for magical rooms, that’s in Hillderedge’s first chapter,” Lexington said, looking a bit irritated. “Secondly, let me speak with Professor Potter for a moment.” She waved around a ring of fabric swatches. “Muggle things, you know. Just go – oh, I don’t know, that wall ought to be a window. But remember that stone’s a solid and glass is a liquid and –“

“Yes, all _right_ , Pippa,” he said.

“Penelope,” Evamine corrected, hopping out of Lexington’s pocket again. “Only our friends get to call her Pippa.”

“Am I going to have to reassign one of the two of you?” Harry said, trying not to laugh.

“Probably,” Lexington said. “Though do we really need two suites here? Because, and please don’t get offended or take points, there’s a rather interesting rumor going around amongst the bath portraits.”

“Really,” Harry said. 

“Yes,” she said, looking at him squarely. “I got it from the Head Students’ bath witches, and I told them to knock it off and that being salacious about professors was utterly unbecoming of Hogwarts portraits, so I think it’s just me and Jeremiah and Nioshi and I’ve sworn to hex them in their sleep if they don’t stuff it.” She looked considering. “Plus, I’ve got other leverage there.”

Evamine looked – well, innocent, which Harry found rather entertaining. “And Nioshi’s all bark and no bite.”

“Will you quit with the awful dog puns,” Lexington said. “You’ll have met her last night, Professor, she’s the African wild dog.”

Harry managed to stifle a laugh. “You’re a terror,” he informed her. “Now tell me what you’re getting at.”

“Everyone else on the planet might be thoroughly willing to buy into the idea that Dr. Malfoy had you helping her with lesson plans in the _bath_ ,” Lexington said, rolling her eyes. “But really, Professor?”

“I had rather thought portraits to professorial rooms were bound not to talk about these things with students,” Harry said, mildly.

“Yes, well, it wasn’t all that hard to convince the Head Students’ bath its designation was professorial, it’s only one ward level up,” Lexington said. “And I’m not using it to spy on exam materials or anything, just if I need to get to someone in a hurry. It came in useful when Lucien hexed all the library shelves, now didn’t it?”

“I can’t decide whether to take points or give them,” Harry said, with a sigh. “What would you like to know?”

“ _I_ won’t tell,” she said. “Good on Dr. Malfoy, everyone thinks you’re the most eligible bachelor, the Prophet ran an entire article. But I’m not putting up any unnecessary walls or building you an extra washroom.”

Harry had to admit that he hadn’t expected to be caught out quite _this_ quickly, but Pansy was the one who’d insisted on Lexington for Head Girl. He was starting to see her reasoning. “Right,” he said. “Firstly, there’s nothing _to_ tell. Secondly, we’ll still need two washrooms, Pansy’s particular. And thirdly, I might as well send Savage to help the Headmistress downstairs. Is your boyfriend around, since apparently he doesn’t know anything either?”

“Coming from lunch,” she said, cheerfully. “He’s better at Transfiguration than Savage, anyway.”

“I rather think if you ask him you’ll find that Dr. Malfoy and I were far too tired this morning to be doing anything _but_ lesson plans,” Harry said, firmly. He waved Savage over. 

“Miss Lexington has quite a few ideas,” he said. “And most of them are based in muggle technique, so I thought perhaps –“

“Downstairs, very happy to help, bye, Pippa,” Savage said, and nearly bolted.

“Penelope!” Evamine shouted.

Harry didn’t manage to contain his laugh the second time around. “I see why Pansy likes you,” he said.

“Oh, does she?” Lexington said, looking pleased. “Well, that’s good, then. I think she’s brilliant. We have meetings every week, but she’s a bit hard to read.”

“Slytherin,” Harry reminded her, laughing. “And I just want to remind you that Dr. Malfoy, Professor Malfoy, and myself have final recommendation on your grades, should you be choosing to use information obtained in an unauthorized manner to attempt to manipulate said grades.”

“Of course not,” Lexington said, looking rather offended. “Like I said, good on Dr. Malfoy. And, er, I suppose Professor Malfoy, somehow.” She held up a hand for Evamine to jump to. “But I’ve got to borrow furniture from somewhere to transfigure it, and there’s no sense in getting the wrong size of everything.”

“You know,” Harry said, cautiously. “I’d have expected a bit more drama regarding the matter.”

“Please,” Lexington said, tossing her hair over one shoulder and gathering a series of paint samples. “She’s a Slytherin, and you’re fit and rather bearable for a Gryffindor. We get what we want. Besides.” She smirked. “I got a letter when I was eleven telling me I was a witch. You really think much phases you after that? And anyway, you’ve no idea the things I’ve walked in on in this castle. Three people sharing a bath is frankly rather low on the list.”

Harry tried not to choke. “Perhaps knocking might be a good habit to develop,” he said, finally. “But ten points to Slytherin for your discretion and commitment to house values.”

“I only take points if I earn them,” Lexington said, folding her arms.

“Then ten points if you can fix the fact that our window is melting so I can start on the walls,” Harry said, dryly.

“Oh, _Savage_ ,” she muttered. “I don’t even know why I bother.”

Jeremiah – Whimsey – and Shazarha were, true to Lexington’s word, both good at Transfiguration and quite good at keeping their mouths shut. “Just tell me if you’re getting tired,” Harry said, firmly.

“I’m sort of all right,” Whimsey said. “Fleur actually took my place to see how the magic worked, I wasn’t that overdone. And Shaz ate about four chickens at lunch.” He paused. “Besides, I’m just pulling up walls where she tells me.” He grinned. “I find it’s best to just get out of the way unless she wants me in it.”

“That’s not the worst plan I’ve ever heard of,” Harry said, laughing. Lexington had handed him an enormous stack of catalogues that her mother had sent via owl and asked whether he’d wanted a leather sectional or a couch and a loveseat, and she had some sort of concoction set up to duplicate paints and varnishes that Harry thought was rather fascinating, though he wasn’t planning on going anywhere near on the grounds of it being potion related.

By the end of the afternoon, Harry had to admit that either Lexington or her mother had exceptional taste – she’d done a rather complicated casting that Harry had to admit he knew next to nothing about, taking space from somewhere in an attic, and so put two full sized washrooms in without using any of the tower space at all. It was a bit odd to step through a door that went somewhere outside of the tower even though it was _in_ the tower, but Harry decided not to think about it too hard.

She’d sighed heavily when he’d suggested that she _might_ be better equipped at choosing matching furniture than he was, though they settled on a compromise – she offered him three choices while poor Whimsey was levitating an older sofa or chair over from the Room of Requirement, and Harry picked one. They took a decent number of pieces from Pansy and Draco’s original sitting room, but the tower room was larger and far more well lit, so Lexington added quite a few pieces, including an enormous leather couch that Harry nearly fell asleep on multiple times.

Whimsey had put together quite a nice fireplace, and Lexington’s paints and stains had come in handy for the walls and floors; Harry had a tendency to forget that professors could do anything they liked to their quarters. A wall of bookshelves divided the room, and one particular book, when tapped, revealed a door into the bedroom.

Savage’s botched window had been repaired, giving a view of the greenhouses and lake and the forest that Harry suspected would be even better at night, and the majority of the room was taken up by an enormous four poster bed that Harry had filled with blankets. The posts had twisting spirals steps up and perches at the top for Thaxia, and the headboard had a nook for her as well, though Harry doubted she’d use it. Lexington had insisted on draping the canopy with linen fabric rather than using curtains, and Harry had to admit that after months in the dungeons, the fact that it was _light_ was rather nice. She transfigured a fur coat into yet another rug.

“They’re already wood floors, you know,” he pointed out, and she rolled her eyes. “And _you’ve_ never seen Dr. Malfoy’s office in the winter.”

“I think I actually do need to eat,” Whimsey said, apologetically, and Lexington went over to kiss his cheek. “I’m nearly done, we’ll meet you down there,” she said, with a smile that Harry found oddly sweet in comparison to the cool efficiency he’d come to expect in class and from the day’s work.

“Thank you,” he said, finally, when Whimsey had disappeared down the stairs. He cleared his throat. “For all this.”

“Well, no offense, but it’s not really for you, now is it?” she said, with a smile. “I used to not fit in. Third year was bloody horrible. But then she and Professor Malfoy came along and made things better, and I went to her office crying one day and she told me I was far better than I thought I was and that I had tremendous potential if I’d just get out of my own way.” Lexington laughed. “She actually sounded irritated about it, really, but she’s been good to me. And look where I am now. So it’s really the least I can do.”

“You ought to tell her,” Harry said, with a smile. “And if you don’t, I will. And it’s got nothing to do with this, I’d have offered anyway at the end of term, but if you’d like a letter of recommendation for your application, you’ve got one from me. I’m thoroughly willing to speak to your character and resourcefulness in addition to your ability to brew potions.” He laughed. “Well, all right, your knowledge of potions, the practical half will need to come in Draco’s letter.”

“You think he’d write me one too?” she said, brightening. “That’d be brilliant. The committee really respects him.”

“I’m sure of it,” Harry said, firmly, mostly because he’d already heard Draco’s delight over Lexington’s ability to brew things the rest of the class kept, in his words, “ruining utterly beyond even the realm of comprehension.”

She paused, then grinned again. “Actually, I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten a letter from Harry Potter before,” she said. “That’ll probably help a bit.”

Harry sighed. “I’m glad someone’s putting my fame and all that to good use,” he said, dryly, and Lexington rolled her eyes again.

“No, because you were an auror, see?” she said. “You saw all sorts of injuries and that sort of thing. I’d like to do trauma, so if you say I’m a good candidate, then that’ll really mean something, won’t it? You’ve got field experience.”

“And you’ve got a level head, you think on your feet, and –“ Harry paused, holding up some paint samples. “You can tell the difference between ‘Grey Beige’ and ‘Cloudy Afternoon,’ which suggests exceptionally good eyesight or perhaps strong divination ability.”

“Ta, Professor,” she said, laughing, and sent a stack of logs tumbling into the fireplace. “Shall we go see how well Professor Malfoy’s done with the second level?”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Harry said, with a sigh. “And Thaxia’s down there.”

“You do know the fact that your daemon keeps riding around on his shoulders is a bit of a giveaway,” Lexington remarked.

“Yes, well, she claims to like the view,” Harry said. “And you try arguing with her.”

“No thank you,” Evamine said, politely. “She eats things like me for lunch. I’m taking a nap if she asks.”

“See?” Harry said, and held open the door so she could head down the stairs in front of him.

Harry blinked a little in surprise at the second level. Somehow, it was nothing and everything like he’d expected Draco to put together.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Draco said. He was peering intently into an aquarium that circled nearly half the room, covering the walls from floor to ceiling. “I can’t tell what this means.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Harry said. When he went to look, the pearl millet sharks were in their usual pile amongst their now expanded rock wall, but they were faintly glowing.

“Oh,” he said, startled.

“There’s absolutely nothing in the literature,” Draco said. “Do you think they’re distressed?”

“No,” Harry said. “That only happens in the wild, it’s their natural color if they’ve got the proper magical currents in the water. I’ve seen it diving, but –“ He laughed with sudden delight. “What did you _do_? It’s why muggles think they’re ordinary, they can’t see the magic.”

“Well, Thaxia said we’d thought about all the regular parameters, nitrates and salinity and oxygenation and so on, but maybe we ought to think of magic like pH,” he said. “So I added plants that emit magic as a waste product, and now there are measurable levels in the water.” He shrugged. “I guessed at the amount, but there were a few studies from Australia. I think we might get a paper out of it.”

“I rather think we’ll get about five,” Harry said, dryly. “Lexington, would you like to see?”

“They’re quite pretty,” she said, standing on her toes to look down at them. “Oh, is that a stingray? I’ve never seen one before.”

“I might have ordered a few things,” Draco said, pausing. “But – I mean, it ought to be as close to the natural ecosystem as possible, and we only had one species of elasmobranch –“

“It’s brilliant,” Harry said. “Really.”

The other half of the room had been set up as a glass aviary with Harry’s Australian collection, with most of the birds settled into plants Harry hadn’t even known Draco _had_ to put in their habitat. At least one pair of birds was already starting to build a nest. “Hold on, I’ve no idea what those are,” he said.

“I didn’t order anything new for in here,” Draco said. “Well, the plants, but not the birds.”

“Huh,” Harry said. “I think those might be my pair of minka. You know, the death omen ones.”

“Oh, great,” Lexington said.

Harry shook his head. “Not a very nice story, actually, they’re sort of magical detectors, and a lot of the first wizards to colonize Australia participated in the eradication of the aboriginal people because they thought their magic was inferior. I suppose they got away with it because the muggles were doing the same thing. You might get enough magic to see one after a casting that was big enough to kill you with their magic, but colonial wizards had power on an entirely different wavelength, so anything they cast made the birds visible, and… well, the next spell cast wasn’t likely to be a particularly friendly one. Or you might get put under Imperius, stick around for a bit, tell everyone you were seeing the things, and then get killed.” Harry looked up at them. “I wouldn’t ordinarily choose to keep them, but people ought to know the history. Those who don’t are condemned to repeat it, and all that.”

“Makes you think twice, I suppose,” Lexington said. “And wish I had room for more electives, it sounds like Professor Potter’s made it a real class.”

“I want it to be,” Harry said. “It’s not exactly Transfiguration, but we ought to know the things we’re using for ingredients in potions and that can influence our behavior without our knowledge.”

Draco snorted. “And you’ve forgotten that it’s inherently tied to the differences with daemons, Potter,” he said. “No one can study one without the other. And if you’re going to study the history of magic, you probably ought to start with the evolution of magic, which you can’t do without magical creatures.”

“True,” Harry said. “But none of that explains why these things are lighting up like Christmas ornaments.”

“Well, it’s sort of the same as the aquarium,” Thaxia said. “If you look at the frequencies, you know, the Dalton study about magic in the calls and magical signatures identifying particular males, you’ll actually see that in the wild, energy isn’t disappearing, it’s going back into the ecosystem. There are measurable levels in some plants.”

“We put a reverse net spell on to keep it in,” Draco said. “And there’s a monitor to make sure the levels don’t get too high, the plants in there ought to keep it reasonably stable, but if there’s excess, then it gets filtered through and stored for if the aquarium gets low. Kind of like a – what did you call it, Thaxia?”

“A battery,” Lexington said, laughing. “I may have to audit, Professor Potter, if this is the sort of thing you’re doing.”

“Any time,” Harry said, with a smile. “Though apparently part of my suite has taken a turn for the utterly brilliant without my knowledge.” 

“Mostly Thaxia,” said Draco.

“Mostly Malfoy,” said Thaxia.

“I’ll ask Savage at dinner,” Lexington said, innocently, and Malfoy turned to give her a look.

“Stop tormenting that poor boy just because he thinks you’re fit, you’ve already got Whimsey wrapped around your finger,” he said. “Being seventeen is hard enough without Slytherin witches.”

Lexington rolled her eyes. “Not happening,” she said. “Jeremiah is smart and doesn’t _melt walls_ , I think I’ll keep him.” She grinned. “Though I hear it’s perfectly acceptable for us Slytherin witches to collect all the most attractive boys these days.”

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco said.

Harry held his hands up. “She’s got a spying spell on the bath portraits, she figured it out on her own.”

“Yes, your collaborative lesson planning is quite innovative,” she said, innocently. “I’d better get to dinner, though. Jeremiah’s probably waiting.”

She waved with one last grin before she disappeared down the stairwell, and Draco waited until she was out of earshot before he started to laugh. “You know,” he said. “I have to admit to the occasional fantasy of setting that one on my father. Muggleborn and utterly unashamed of it and she’s twice the Slytherin most of them will ever be. She’d spin him in circles and have fun doing it.”

“They’re sort of growing on me,” Harry mused. “I mean – the blatant yet principled disregard for all the rules, the non-stop torment, and the scorn towards anyone who they deem inferior, it’s really quite charming.”

“Oh, shut up,” Draco said, waving a hand, and furniture and bookshelves and a set of chairs suddenly appeared in the corner that wasn’t occupied by habitats. “Pansy and I have our own offices, I thought this could be yours. And I added another bedroom through that door.” He paused. “I mean – you did ask for it.”

“Very stupidly,” Harry admitted. “I don’t need it. But it’d be nice to have a place for Hermione to stay over if she’d like.”

“A guest room, that might be novel,” Draco mused.

“Definitely a guest room,” Harry said, going over to wrap his arms around Draco from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder as he watched the birds. “You know, I don’t think she’ll tell anyone, but I don’t mind Lexington knowing.”

“Did you think you would?” Draco said, sounding uncertain.

“Not like that,” Harry said, nuzzling his neck. “I just – Ginny and I were always front page news, that sort of thing. It drove me batshit insane, I just wanted to live my life and not be fake in the newspapers.”

“I think you hated it because our life was fake,” Thaxia corrected. “You were always worried, I don’t know, someone might catch your photograph giving the wrong sort of look toward her.” She paused. “Or me trying to eat that useless _thing_.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, considering. “I still don’t like the spotlight, but I doubt that’s ever going to go away.”

“Probably not,” Draco agreed.

“Do you mind?” Harry said, finally. “The idea of not hiding this?”

“No,” Draco said. “People will either get over it or they won’t, and if they won’t, then I don’t particularly care. There are far more newsworthy things than the three of us if we’re just living our lives, and I’ve really no intention of doing anything other than living my life.”

Harry snorted. “Well, now that I’m not living in London, me in Diagon Alley might still get photographed, especially if it’s with the two of you.”

“Just don’t be surprised if Pansy puts clippings in her office,” Draco said, laughing.

“How long do you think until she just steals that ring?” Harry said, laughing too.

“Oh, god, no,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “I mean – she might, but she’ll keep it in her lingerie drawer or something. You don’t propose to a woman like that without ceremony.”

“What’d you do, candles and roses and all that?” he said.

“Well, it was a bit different, I asked if she’d sign a contract while we were eating dinner, and she said she’d want a week to read over the terms, but probably yes, and then she had her solicitor look at it, and then she said yes,” Draco said. “But that’s not a proposal.”

“I’m never going to understand this whole thing,” Harry said, muffling a groan against Draco’s shoulder. “It makes absolutely no sense.”

“It’s not that hard,” Draco said, dryly. “She and I are contracted. You can either draw up contracts with both of us or draw up a contract with one of us and marry the other. Or, hell, draw up contracts with both of us _and_ marry one of us, I don’t care.”

“I’m just going to imagine you said that we were drafting a lot of legal paperwork with medical proxy information and all that sort of thing,” Harry said, firmly. “And that in a few years we can call everything even and say everyone’s married.”

“But we won’t all be –“

“Draco,” Thaxia said. “You’ll break his brain, and then what will you do?”

“It’s not _that_ complicated,” he said. “But if you’re going to marry someone, marry Pansy, the Potter inheritance stuff will probably have been set in those terms, it’s more practical, and anyway, she might want the white dress and the party.”

“I don’t think I’d want any unequal terms,” Harry said. “But I’m sure Hermione can find some sort of loophole if we wanted.” He shrugged. “I’m sure some pureblood wanted a legitimate heir badly enough to marry two people at the same time, even if it was five hundred years ago.”

Draco snorted. “Not to my knowledge,” he said. “But by all means, Granger’s welcome to look. Though you might want to tell her about all this before asking her to look up polygamous marriage.”

“It’s actually polyandry,” Thaxia said. “Like marmosets.”

“Seriously,” Harry said. “Are we sure we can’t talk all this over in, I don’t know, a year, and I can’t get dinner and read a book and go to bed?”

Draco snorted. “I do think you ought to tell Granger,” he pointed out.

“Yes, _in a few days_ ,” Harry said, irritably. “In non-Slytherin terms, we haven’t even had a first date. I get that by Slytherin rules I’m already engaged to you both or something, but just –“ He rubbed a hand over his face. “Draco, I’m not going anywhere, but I think I really need some time to just catch up and let us be normal. Teach classes. Eat dinner together. Have some sex. Play chess. Sleep in the same bed. That sort of thing.”

He found Lethe leaning against his leg, looking up at Draco. “It’s Harry,” she said. “And you two are rushing like you think he’s going to go away if you don’t get him pinned down, and he’s _not_.”

“No,” Harry said, then grinned. “Though you’re quite welcome to _literally_ pin me, if you like.” 

“I was doing quite well at ignoring that bit,” Draco said, dryly.

“Well, quit it,” Harry said, turning him around so he could pull him down for a long kiss. “We’re dating. Or engaged. Or something. You ought to be thinking about how much you want me.”

“Are you?” Draco asked, looking at him.

“I would be if I’d, I don’t know, eaten something since breakfast and didn’t feel like I was going to fall over, I didn’t get any sleep last night either,” Harry admitted. “Sorry. Yorkshire pudding sounds much more appealing than anything else at the moment.”

Thaxia nipped Draco. “That’s Gryffindor for yes, he has been, and yes, he likes to look at you naked.” 

Draco shook his head, but he was laughing. “You know, Thaxia, I _am_ capable of telling the difference between rejection and postponement.” 

“Well, you were terrible at it this morning, I felt like clarification was necessary,” she said, primly, settling in around his shoulders.

“You’re awful,” Draco said, but it was affectionate. 

“Lexington pointed out that it’s a bit of a dead giveaway when she’s _riding_ you,” Harry said.

“He’s taller,” Thaxia said, but she crept back to Harry’s shoulders, nuzzling his ear. “Come on. Let’s get Pansy and Kit and eat dinner and then everyone can see upstairs.”

“They’ll probably be ravenous,” Draco agreed, glancing at Harry for a moment before heading to hold open the door. “Shall we?”

“Thanks,” Harry said.

Kit and Pansy both looked much better, and Kit even greeted Lethe with a nuzzle.

“Dinner?” he said, hopefully. “I want more steak.”

“Meat sounds good,” Pansy agreed. “What did you two do with yourselves?”

“Found us a new place to live,” Harry said. “We’ll show you after dinner.”

“More like, _built_ us a new place to live,” Draco said, dryly.

“Well, that’s no fun, you ought to have waited for me,” Pansy said. “Though frankly at this point as long as it’s got a properly sized bed, I’m not sure I care.”

Harry was rather glad that Hogwarts plates kept refilling, because he and Pansy made it through three portions each, and Thaxia devoured two bowls of rabbit meat. He found Lethe watching him from under the table, but he was too tired for any more philosophy.

“Everything’s moved over,” Harry said, as they walked back to the tower. “And if there’s anything you don’t like, blame Lexington, I just cast things. You can fix it.”

“Well, aside from Harry’s office, that’s his prerogative,” Draco said.

“Or yours and Thaxia’s,” Harry said, dryly.

“Shut up, your sharks are happy,” Draco said.

“I’m following this very clearly,” Pansy remarked, rolling her eyes, but she followed Harry through the Potions classroom and up to the second floor.

“Wow,” Pansy said, looking a little startled.

“Harry’s office, and there’s a guest room over there,” Draco said. “For Granger, you know. Do you want to look around?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Thaxia said. “Come on, we’ve all been waiting to see what Harry did upstairs. _I_ haven’t even gotten to see it yet.”

“Honestly, it was mostly Lexington,” Harry said. “I just picked furniture and put up walls and that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yes, no work at all,” Pansy said, laughing, and leaned to kiss his cheek.

“You’re usually much more excited about surprises,” Thaxia said, sounding suspicious.

“Yes, well, they’re usually a bit less loaded,” Harry said, letting Pansy climb the stairs first. “I’d rather they like it.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, startled, when the door swung open. Draco had to nudge her to get her out of the doorway.

“Huh,” he said. “That’s not half bad, Potter.”

Pansy blinked a few times, and Thaxia stared at her suspiciously. “Don’t start that,” she said. “Hermione already cries far too often, I don’t need any more of that.”

“It’s really lovely,” she said. “It’s – _us_.”

“I tried to keep it like the sitting room, yeah,” Harry said, and Pansy shook her head, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“No, I mean, it’s _us_ ,” she said. “You’re here too.” She laughed. “It’s far too comfortable and cozy to be mine and Draco’s alone.”

Draco murmured something, starting the fireplace. He looked at the bookshelves. “I assume there’s a trick to this,” he said.

“Yeah, here,” Harry said, touching the keyed book, and opening the door. “That one opens a door, the one next to it will slide the bookshelves out so it’s all one room.”

“Let’s open it up,” Pansy suggested, and Draco touched the other book and the bookshelves folded and disappeared.

“Thank god, we’ll all fit,” Kit said, sounding relieved, and took two bounding leaps towards the bed.

“There’s a shelf directly to the library, and a cabinet to the kitchens, and – lots of things,” Harry said. “I can show you tomorrow. Or you can poke around.”

“There’s only the one bedroom,” Pansy said, cautiously. “Should I read into that?”

“That I want to sleep in the same place?” Harry said. “Yes.”

“We talked about it, we’re just going to –“ Draco glanced at him. “Let it play out. Harry wants a chance to tell his people first, though.”

“Lexington’s already caught on, I don’t think there’s much point in trying to sneak around,” Harry said, tiredly. “And honestly, I don’t _want_ to sneak around.”

“No,” Pansy said, running her hand over one of the bedposts. “I’d rather not either.”

“Draco, why don’t you show Pansy Harry’s office?” Lethe said. “Maybe she’d have suggestions.”

“Sure,” Draco said. “Harry, want to show her the birds?”

“If it’s okay, I think I’ll pass,” Harry said, leaning back on the couch. “I’ve got a couple journal articles I want to get through.”

“Yeah, okay,” Draco said, looking at him for a long moment, then brightened. “Pansy, come see the sharks, they’re magnificent.”

“Oh, all right,” Pansy said, laughing.

Harry made it through the first few paragraphs of the article before he decided to stretch out, which was obviously a strategic mistake, since he read the next paragraph four times and then found himself starting to drift off.

“Harry, I’m making tea, do you want –“ Pansy said from the doorway, waking him up, then stopped short, because Thaxia was suddenly between them, baring her teeth. Harry realized she’d fallen asleep too.

“Ana _thax_ ia,” Pansy said, sounding more confused than scolding.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry said, with a sigh, burying his fingers in Thaxia’s fur. “It’s Pansy. Calm down.”

Thaxia didn’t say anything, merely turned her back and started grooming her whiskers, and Pansy paused. “I was going to see if you wanted tea, but now I think I might want to check in.”

“No, go away,” Thaxia said.

“Thaxia,” Harry said, with another sigh. “Pansy, just ignore her. Please.”

“That seems like a rather bad idea,” Pansy remarked, coming to lean against the arm of the sofa. Thaxia glared at her. 

“I’m not in the best mood,” Harry admitted. “And you know how she is to begin with, it’s, er –“

“I’m not apologizing for protecting you,” Thaxia said, with a low mutter and a growl.

“We’ve been through this a hundred thousand times,” Harry said. “You can’t lose your temper at our people over nothing.”

“I most certainly can,” Thaxia said.

“Look, it’s all right,” Pansy said, softly. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? Or I can leave you be. Really.” 

“I’m okay,” Harry said. “No, honestly, don’t get up in it, Thaxia. I’m overtired and today’s been a bit overwhelming. No offense.”

“Moving in together, or?” Pansy said. 

“I’m a little caught,” Harry admitted. “With all the talk of… I don’t know, permanent things. Don’t get me wrong, it’s how my head and my heart _want_ to do things, but it’s not how the world usually works, and I’m so used to the other way that this feels like a lot.” He flushed. “And I wasn’t sure if – anyone would take it the wrong way if I really wanted to just go to bed tonight.”

“Harry,” Pansy said, with a sigh. “You might have said.”

“I tried to tell Draco,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his face. “But I’m not always good at noticing until I’m too far over the edge.”

“Well,” Pansy said, considering. “Can you at least tell me what would help?”

“Usually I want everyone to fuck off,” Harry said, dryly. “As if Thaxia didn’t make that one clear. But I think – I think maybe that’s not what I need here. I’m honestly not sure.”

“I knew something was off,” Draco said, coming in behind Pansy. “You do know you needn’t run the show _all_ the time, Potter. I know you’re used to the entire world relying on you, but I can assure you, not everyone holds with that particular opinion of you.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, drumming his fingers on the coffee table. He really wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m serious,” Draco said, sliding a teapot into the cabinet to the kitchens. “You’ve a rather obnoxious tendency of putting everyone else first, and while it’s not that we don’t appreciate the effort, you’ve every right to ask for help _before_ you get in over your head.” 

He glanced at Thaxia. “Or you ought to just tell on him, I don’t think he notices so well for himself. We’ll work on it.”

“No,” Thaxia said, sullenly, and Kit came padding over and picked her up of Harry by the scruff of the neck. She swatted at him, but Lethe growled a warning, and she curled into a very sullen ball, letting Kit carry her.

“You’re not in any better shape,” Lethe scolded, stretching out in front of the fire, and Kit curled next to her, dropping Thaxia between them where they both started to groom her.

Draco sat down next to him on the couch, stretching out, and wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him in. “I think you think you don’t want to be touched,” Draco murmured. “But give it a minute, all right?”

“You know,” Pansy remarked, adding sugar and summoning the tea over to the coffee table. “You talk a good game, but there are some things I don’t think you’re much better at than us.”

“Yes, I _told_ you that,” Harry said, feeling suddenly cornered, and Draco squeezed his shoulder.

“Well, you told me,” he said. “I don’t think Pansy overheard.” He glanced up at her. “He said new people were hard for him.”

“That’s not exactly –“

“No, that’s exactly it,” Draco said, firmly. “You want the intimacy, but your head’s busy telling you it can’t be real.”

“It’s usually one of those things that takes time to build,” Harry muttered.

“Sometimes,” Draco allowed. “And I’ll allow, it’ll get deeper. But the part that you need to feel right now, and you’re afraid of? No. That’s real.” He smiled. “Our daemons know it, Potter. Always. That’s how they used to arrange marriages, you know. They’d let the daemons pick.”

“I’m not seeing your point,” Harry said.

Pansy came to sit on his other side. “Draco and I are used to the idea of relationships and marriages that just work,” she said, simply. “They work from the beginning because there wasn’t any trial and error, it was decided based on fit. So if you decide something based on fit, of course it fits. It’s just logical. But muggles and everyone else –“ She sighed. “People don’t do that any more, really. They try things and see if they work or don’t, or they spent years waffling over it, or – I don’t know. I suppose it’s just another way of doing things. Being emotional versus being practical. But you tried that, and I don’t think you liked it much.”

“No,” Harry allowed. “But I don’t see how this is supposed to be more practical and still feels more emotional.”

“So, look, we’ve got things we need to work on,” Pansy said, firmly. “Obviously.” She laughed, handing Harry his tea. “Though not tonight. But you –“ She smiled, tucking herself in against his side. “You work on not thinking there’s something wrong with you for knowing exactly where you belong without working incredibly hard at it. Both practically _and_ emotionally speaking. Sometimes things just slide into place.”

“That,” Harry said, letting his head fall back against Draco’s arm with a sigh, “has not been my general experience. I always want too much or not enough.”

“Or you want the right amount and they want too much or not enough,” Draco pointed out. “I suspect that’s a matter of perspective.”

“You’ve had people,” Pansy said, reaching to run her fingers through his hair. “And don’t think for a moment I’d say your friendship with Granger and Weasley doesn’t mean the world. But it’s… a different thing than this.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry said.

Pansy gave him a considering look. “Look, even if you and I were never to have sex, which I sincerely hope isn’t going to be the case, we’d still be different than you and Hermione. I can’t –“ she made a face. “It’s sort of hard to explain, Harry.”

“Kit’s not Atticus,” Thaxia said, finally, sounding drowsy. “I like Atticus. But he’s not mine.”

Kit snorted. “I’ll let you think so,” he said, sounding affectionate. “I rather think you’re mine and Lethe’s.”

“I don't need _fussing_ over like a kit,” Thaxia protested, and Kit cuffed her again.

“No,” he said. “But we’ll spoil you if we like.”

“Oh, all right,” Thaxia said, grudgingly settling back between his paws. “But not because I’m the smallest.”

“No,” Lethe said, laughing. “Not because you’re the smallest.”

“Because I could take down a porcupine, you know,” she said, drowsily.

“Yes, we know,” Lethe assured her.

Harry finally shook his head with a laugh. “She doesn’t like daemons like that,” he said. “It’s odd to watch.”

“And I’m guessing you don’t like people like you like us,” Draco said. “It’s about the parts you let someone else into, Harry. Most people never get into that piece of you that’s Thaxia, and the piece of me that’s Lethe, and the piece of her that’s Kit.” He shrugged. “But we have, so it feels different. Deeper. And we’re used to that, but you’re not.”

Harry laughed softly. “No,” he admitted. “I keep thinking I’m going to throw up, it’s so –“

Pansy snorted. “Romantic, Harry,” she teased. “We’re all taught there are pieces of us that walk around outside of us. What they don’t tell you is that they leave a sort of space behind, and there’s room for people in there.”

“And daemons,” Kit said, firmly.

“And daemons,” Pansy murmured, kissing his forehead. “You get used to it, Harry, honestly.” She considered. “Well. Maybe. I don’t think we’ve tried tying together the physical part and the emotional part, that’s going to be… more. I’ve no room to talk there.”

“And this is why some bright, inventive individual fermented things to make alcohol,” Draco said, laughing.

“Yeah, I’m going to need to dull that some, no offense,” Harry said, laughing. “Otherwise I’m liable to be a hysterical wreck, and no one wants that as pillow talk.”

“It’s not as if we can’t wade in, you know,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “You make it seem like the only way in is off the high dive board.”

“I suppose not,” Harry said, closing his eyes. “You slept all day, you’re probably not tired.”

“If you’re asking if I want to go to bed, then yes, very much,” Pansy said, laughing. “It looks inviting. It’s not as if I can’t read.” She leaned to nuzzle his temple. “Though to be honest just being together the three of us would be nice.”

“It would,” Harry agreed, finally, and realized that it was true, that he _wanted_ them both there.

“Thank god, this thing is actually big enough,” Draco said, standing up and offering a hand to Harry. He reached to tug Harry’s jumper over his head. “I’m thinking we sleep until about lunch tomorrow.”

“That sounds… good,” Harry said, pausing to watch Draco undress.

“Hopeless,” Pansy teased, sending her own clothes to the hamper before climbing under the blankets.

“Hey, you’ve gotten to look at him all you want,” Harry pointed out, and Pansy laughed again as he climbed in beside her, letting her wrap a leg over him and rest her head on his shoulder. “Later,” she promised. “Draco, he’s freezing, get in here.”

“Oh, sorry, just trying to be obliging,” he said, innocently, then slid in to Harry’s other side, tugging him in tightly, until Harry was firmly caught between the two of them. Ordinarily, he’d have said it would have driven him crazy, but somehow, this felt better than solitude usually did.

“Go to sleep,” Pansy murmured, nuzzling his neck. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I know,” Harry said, and was rather surprised to find he didn’t have any doubt at all.

When Harry woke up, the mid-morning sun was streaming in through the window, but Lexington’s reflection charm had kept the bedroom relatively dark. Draco was still asleep, sprawled out across a large portion of the bed, and Pansy was reading a book, idly stroking her fingers through Thaxia’s fur, where she laid stretched out across Pansy’s chest.

“Feels nice,” Harry murmured, and Pansy looked up with a smile. 

“I was wondering when one of you might wake up.”

“Don’t _stop_ ,” Thaxia said, stretching to make her point. “I didn’t like this, and now I do, so I have to make up for lost time.”

“Spoiled,” Pansy murmured, but she went back to petting her, and Harry felt himself relax.

“Is it –“ He considered. “You’ve been touching Lethe for years, and Kit, it’s –“ He yawned. “Sometimes I don’t even notice, and sometimes it just feels nice, and sometimes it’s insanely intense.”

“I think it’s got to do with intent, honestly,” Pansy said, rubbing under Thaxia’s muzzle. “And what sort of mood everyone’s in.”

“Sleepy,” said Thaxia. “You’re warm. And nice.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, that’s about where I’m at,” he admitted, snuggling in closer.

Pansy put her book aside, leaning in for a kiss.

“You’re all right?” she said, softly.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I mean –“ He considered. “It’s just going to take some time. I’m nervous. It’s new.” He settled his head on her shoulder. “Kind of bad nervous, good nervous.”

“Can I ask you something?” Pansy said.

“Sure,” Harry said. “I did say I’d answer. I mean, the other night.” He hid his face against her neck, feeling himself blush a little. “Though the intention was to let you see the less confident side of me, and you’ve already found it.”

“You and Ginny,” she mused. “You’ve said you were bad for one another. And Thaxia hated her daemon. That had to have been _some_ sort of hint.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, with a sigh. “I was really young, and I’d never had much time to… figure anything out about myself, like that. And we’d dated, during the war, and everyone seemed to think it was normal to just keep doing that, and it didn’t really occur to me that I might need something else.” He closed his eyes. “I’m really awful at dating. I mean – I hate the whole thing. People are only in it because I’m famous, or they want sex on the third date and I’ve barely even thought about kissing them because I don’t know them that well, and Ginny… she seemed like a solution to what I thought were problems. 

“She didn’t like me because I was famous, I was just her big brother’s best friend, and we already knew each other so well that the sex didn’t feel that uncomfortable for me, and it seemed like everything fit. But we wanted different things, and I don’t think either of us was actually getting what we needed, and no one else knows this, but she sort of cheated on me with Dean.” He considered. “Well, no, there wasn’t any sort of. But I never said anything because I think her family would utterly lose their minds, and it woke me up.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Pansy said. “She ought to have at least had the decency to break it off first.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said. “She did right after it happened, I suppose, so it’s not as if she was sneaking around.”

“Mm,” Pansy said, noncommittally, reaching to run her fingers through his hair until Harry relaxed again.

“You told me not to apologize for being me,” Pansy said. “So I don’t think you should apologize for being you.”

“Yes, well, not apologizing and not feeling self-conscious are a little different,” Harry murmured.

“Harry,” Pansy said, fondly. “I’m not skittish. I’ve dealt with far worse things than a man who’s in love with me and whom I love back.”

Harry laughed. “You say that now,” he murmured. “I don’t know. I could get pretty caught up in sex with Ginny, and we weren’t…” He paused. “Anything like this. Ever. And then I’ve got a knee-jerk tendency to try to get out of it when I realize I’m in over my head.”

“Maybe,” Pansy said. “Maybe you’ve got a knee-jerk tendency to try to get out of it when you realize you’re being intimate with the wrong person. Maybe with the right people, it’ll feel good, instead.”

“Or utterly terrifying,” Harry mused.

“I don’t know,” Pansy said, nudging him with her foot. “Us, the other night – that was pretty good.” She smiled. “Draco and I talked for a while after you fell asleep. We decided, ah.” She flushed. “It was going to be an utter disaster if either of us got jealous of the other with you, so we’re just not.”

“I’m not totally sure you can control feelings like that,” Harry said, laughing softly.

“Well, we can, sort of,” Pansy said, leaning to kiss his temple. “We agreed we both had to go all in, no holding back because we were afraid of how we’d make each other feel. And we’ve got… things to figure out.” She paused. “I mean – each of us does, with you.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You’re not the same person. It won’t be exactly the same. Fair, yeah, everyone’s loved equally, yeah, but you’re not wrong that it’s complicated.”

“But worth it,” Pansy said, laughing.

“What’s your thing?” Harry said, curious. “I mean – with me. Draco’s seems a little obvious, though I’m sure there’s more to it than just the fact that we’re both men.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, then laughed, cheeks going pink. “You’re going to laugh at me, honestly.”

“I won’t,” Harry said.

“It’s different, with you,” Pansy said. “Draco’s constant. I mean – ever since the beginning, I’ve been sort of stupidly head over heels for him, but even with the mess of our sex life, we’ve always just known each other. He’s comfortable.”

“And?” Harry said. “It’s not as if he’s the only man you’ve ever slept with.”

“No,” Pansy said. “But – I’ve never –“ She finally gave in and laughed. “I kind of fancy you a ludicrous amount, and every time you flirt back or look my way or stare I get these stupid butterflies in my stomach, and it’s really idiotic. Genuinely. And I can’t read you like I’ve always been able to read him, so I’ve no idea what you’re thinking half the time, and it’s just –“ She shook her head. “I’ve never been interested in the pursuit part of things, but you make me interested in that, and I’ve no idea how that’s going to play out in bed.”

“A lot of really inappropriate flirting and probably me getting really pushy,” Harry said, laughing. “I’d totally ask you to the Yule Ball, though.”

Pansy snorted, but she looked vaguely pleased. “You don’t mind?”

“No,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Because I feel the same way. You’re ridiculously attractive and you do magic like no one else I’ve ever met and watching you with something you’re excited about…” He smiled. “I sneaked in to watch you lecture once, you know, with the invisibility cloak. You end up so passionate about the most basic things that you’re practically on fire with it, never mind how you feel about your advanced courses.”

Pansy considered, then reached to pull him closer for a kiss. “Well, come and get me,” she said, with a grin. “But later. I require plying with wine and witty banter.”

“That’s hardly any fun,” Harry said. “Bet if I woke Draco up he’d agree.”

“Bet if you woke Draco up, he’d want lunch,” Pansy countered, with a grin. “Well. Maybe not. But I want a little more time between us all being utterly wound and screwed up over magic and lack of sleep and us getting all wound and screwed up again over sex.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, fair enough,” he said. “Wanna do absolutely nothing today?” He laughed. “I mean, like, mess around in the greenhouses and get yelled at by Draco and maybe play some Quidditch.”

“If you mean read while you and Draco chase one another around on broomsticks like lunatics, then yes, absolutely,” Pansy said, cheerfully.

“Quidditch?” Thaxia said, suddenly perking up. “Quidditch!”

“Oh, right,” Pansy said, dryly. “You’ve a daemon who can go up _with_ you.”

“Bugger that,” Draco said, drowsily. “I get Thaxia. She’s my compensation for not being all dense and muscle-y and aerodynamic.” He yawned. “We used to be quite well matched, Potter, and then one of us hit puberty and had an actual growth spurt.”

“It’s not as if he’s short, darling,” Pansy said, laughing.

“Look, blame my mother,” Draco said, yawning again. “There were some very sneaky Black height genes in there.”

“I’ll go with Draco,” Thaxia said, untangling herself from Pansy and hopping over Harry to stand on Draco’s chest, looking at him nose to nose. “But only if you’ll dive, will you dive?”

“If I’m higher than the snitch, probably,” Draco said, laughing.

“I never got to be in any official matches, there were unfair rules,” Thaxia said, with a sigh. “But I’m quite good, actually.”

“She likes to fly _upside down_ ,” Harry said. “Have fun with that.”

“Ugh,” Lethe said. “Pansy, you’ll bring a blanket for the stands, won’t you?”

“And butterbeer,” Pansy said, dryly. “And then we’ll do something you and Kit like.”

“Stalking game?” Kit said. 

“Definitely stalking game,” Lethe agreed.

“Stalking game?” Thaxia said, tilting her head to look at Kit.

“Hide and seek, sort of,” Pansy said. “Everyone hides and one pair tries to find the other. And bonus points if Kit doesn’t tackle you out of a tree, really.”

“One of us gets Harry, the other gets Thaxia?” Draco suggested.

“I call Thaxia,” Kit said. “She can smell. And climb trees.”

“See, I knew someone would see my value eventually,” Thaxia said, pleased, and Kit cuffed her and licked all her fur backwards.

“ _Hey_ ,” she said.

“That was for implying we didn’t already,” Kit said, then licked her fur back, starting to groom her. “But I’ll fix it because we love you.”

“Oh, all right,” Thaxia said, sounding put upon, but she twisted so she could start to groom Kit’s whiskers. “You never get these, it’s awful. And I love you back.”

Harry paused, staring at her for a long moment.

“What?” Thaxia said. “They are awful, and if I’m on his team, I want them in the best possible shape so we can win.”

“Yes, that part,” Harry said. “Not the part where you barely even ever say that to _me_.”

“Oh, well, of course I love _you_ ,” Thaxia said, with a huff. “You’re you.”

“I give up,” Harry said, glancing at Kit. “She has literally never said that to anyone, ever, other than myself, so apparently you two broke her.”

Pansy snorted. “Thaxia is overwhelmed with middle school feelings,” she teased. “She wants to send them singing Valentines.”

“Like you’re any better,” Thaxia taunted. “You’re probably drawing up manuscript headings with ‘Pansy Malfoy-Potter’ all over them.”

“Honestly, that’s really awful, we’re not hyphenating anything, _ever_ ,” Harry said, firmly, but he was trying not to laugh.

“You’ve got to admit, it’s significantly more functional than Granger-Weasley,” Pansy pointed out.

“Hah, you have been thinking about it,” Thaxia said, sounding smug.

“One, we are not going to talk about name hyphenation in the Granger-Weasley household because otherwise we will all be murdered in cold blood, and two, I want brunch,” Harry said, firmly, climbing out of bed. “Also, three, Dr. Malfoy is much sexier than any of the other options, so just stick with that.”

“I feel like it’s the doctor part, though,” Draco mused. “Yeah, definitely the doctor part.”

“Dr. Pansy Parkinson-Potter-Malfoy, MaD,” Lethe said, innocently. 

“Hah!” Thaxia said.

“I am going to get you later,” Pansy said, leaning off the bed to stare at her.

“Game on,” Lethe taunted back.

“So, I’ll just be getting eggs and sausages,” Harry said, pulling on a t-shirt. “Toast, maybe. Tea.”

“I bet there’s jam and pastries,” Draco said. “I’m really a fan of those ones – you know –“

“Oh, definitely, those,” Harry agreed. “Come on, let’s leave the girls to it.”

“You talk a good game, but you were so busy staring at me that your shirt’s on backwards,” Pansy said, rolling over with a laugh. “Nice try, though.”

“Oh, sod it,” Harry said, turning it around. “Don’t lean over the bed like that.”

Pansy rolled out of bed and leaned in to kiss him, doing up Harry’s jeans and fastening the belt buckle he hadn’t gotten around to yet. “No?” she said. 

“I rather think you’re doing that backwards,” Harry said.

“Just following your bad example,” Pansy said, disappearing into the closet. “Ooh, Harry, it’s all arranged by color _and_ season.”

“Ten points to Slytherin for Lexington’s knowledge of female wardrobes,” Draco said, dryly.

“I’m not sure we can actually give her points for that,” Harry said. “It’s sort of like bribery.”

“Oh, all right, minus ten points to Slytherin for that other thing, ten points for Lexington not blowing up her Charming Chocolate brew last week.”

“Why _are_ we doing all these godforsaken love potions, anyway?” Harry said. “I’ve got to be honest, the lectures are getting increasingly desperate, because they’re all basically like, this wizard walked into a bar and there was an incredibly beautiful witch who wasn’t interested in him, and by the way, children, consent is a very important part of healthy romantic and sexual relationships.”

“Oh, calm down, we’re moving on to medical soon,” Draco said. “But one, we’re working our way down, and I usually let them try the weakest one just to know what it feels like if someone’s ever trying to slip them something.” He shrugged. “And then we work our way up so everyone knows where their tolerance is. None of the dangerous ones or the ones without antidotes, obviously, but it’s worth knowing. _And_ there have been at least two occasions in the last four years where someone exploded a nearly finished one on the entire class and someone usually ends up on a desk shouting really awful sonnets before I can get them the antidote, and anyway, Pansy’s an _utter_ lightweight so I figured I’d just dose your tea at the next staff meeting and derive entertainment from watching you two try not to climb on top of each other.”

“Draco, you do realize the consent part isn’t just for the teenagers,” Harry said, dryly.

“Well, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’d have gotten some sort of blanket consent statement first. ‘I want to shag Pansy at all times,’ or something like that.”

“I really –“ Harry paused. “You know that thing where I’ve been letting you organize ingredients while I lecture? We’re not doing that any more.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Draco said, with a sigh. “Though this year’s class is rather obnoxious, they all like one another so we can’t do anything fun.”

“Your definition of fun is never the same as anyone else’s,” Harry said, warily.

“Well, you did tell me I ought to know how to brew sex potions,” Draco said, laughing. “I usually teach a few. But it only really works if they hate each other, then they’re not inclined to try them or dose anyone. Speaking of consent.”

“You are an unfathomable mystery,” Harry said, with a sigh, doing the buttons on his cardigan. “And why you never gave any of _those_ to Pansy, I’m not going to ask.”

“Well, it’s sort of cheating if you’re not already getting it done yourself first,” Draco mused.

“What, and adding a Gryffindor isn’t?” Harry said.

“No, that’s all above board,” Draco said.

“There isn’t, I don’t know, a rule book about your code of ethics somewhere, is there?” Harry said.

“No,” Draco said, cheerfully. “Well, maybe, page 17 says nothing’s off the table if I’m playing Seeker.”

“He’s tall _and_ sneaky,” Thaxia, said, jumping from her bedpost perch onto Draco’s shoulders. “And you can just shut up about me riding him downstairs to breakfast.”

“Oh, bugger,” Harry said. “Ron and Hermione.”

“Yes?” Pansy said, emerging from the closet. She had a skirt and _boots_ and things. Harry was determined not to give her the pleasure of staring.

“This isn’t really the sort of thing you _owl_ about,” he said.

“So go to London,” Pansy said. “D’you want us to come with?”

“No clue,” Harry said, honestly. “I mean – no, I don’t think, but maybe you could come for dinner after.”

“Sure,” Pansy said, looking expectantly at Draco.

“Yeah, okay, I want to meet the –“ Draco gestured. “Tiny one that can undo locks.”

Harry blinked. “No protests about Ron?”

Draco made a face. “Harry, I no longer have the _option_ of disliking Weasley, so let’s just move along and not make me suffer, shall we? I can be civil and perhaps we’ll discuss Quidditch or something.”

“Two minutes for hair and make up,” Pansy said, with a yawn.

“Does that mean twenty? If it means twenty, I’m going ahead,” Harry warned.

“No, about ninety seconds,” Draco said. “She’s got this – I don’t know, charm thing.”

“If I just want it like usual, then I charm a duplicate from a photograph I’ve got in my vanity,” Pansy said. “If it’s a special occasion, it takes longer. I’ve explained this a million times, Draco.”

“I actually understood that,” Harry said.

Draco wanted to check on Harry’s office, which ended up taking longer than Pansy’s hair and make up, but brunch was – weirdly nice, even with all of the students around, and Thaxia kept making Pansy laugh, which Harry was sort of… growing fond of.

“I will go get a snitch,” Pansy said, firmly, when they were done eating. “From the flying equipment lockers. Because neither one of you can be trusted in the least when it comes to this godforsaken game.”

“That would be unsportsmanlike,” Draco protested, but Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’ll meet you at the pitch.”

“Right, broomsticks,” Draco said, with a smirk. “Don’t worry if we’re late, Pansy.”

“ _Boys_ ,” she said, taking off down a flight of stairs.

“Oh, he’s being flirty,” Thaxia said, pleased. “Good on you, Malfoy.”

“You know what, I’m not talking to anyone for like the next two hours if it isn’t strictly necessary,” Harry said, laughing.

“Fair enough,” Draco said, with a snort.

It was, Harry reflected, the sort of weather he’d loved to play in while he’d been in school – clear and bright, with just enough of a chill to make it obvious that it was really fall, and the leaves of the forest starting to turn, seemingly overnight. Harry was a little surprised there was no one out on the pitch, but he could see quite a few students on the lake, and it _was_ a little windy.

“Right, I’ve got it,” Pansy said. “We’ll be in the stands, paying utterly no attention. Mount up and do whatever the hell you want before I let this thing go.”

Thaxia jumped from Harry’s shoulders to the pitch, racing over to Draco’s broomstick with more glee than Harry had seen from her in a while. 

“Dive at things,” she instructed Draco. “Also, win. A lot.”

Harry chose a spot near the hoops, relatively far from Draco, and Pansy held up a gloved hand. 

“Close your eyes for five seconds or I’ll make it invisible and then you can _really_ have some fun,” she said. Harry obliged, and when he opened them again, Pansy was waving. “Go fetch,” she yelled up at them.”

Draco got the first one in under two minutes, mostly because it had gone nearly straight to them, and Harry tried not to laugh at Thaxia’s refusal to give it back.

“This is absolutely why you weren’t allowed at matches,” he called.

“No it wasn’t –“ she opened her mouth to say, and the Snitch zoomed off again.

“Works every time,” Harry said, fondly.

Harry won the next two rounds, though the second was close, and he found, a little to his surprise, that he was _happy_. It had been a while. He threw the Snitch up again, overhand, and Draco caught it before it disappeared, with a grin.

“Won’t count that one,” he said, letting it fly off again.

“He just wanted to come over here to look at you all windswept and flushed from the cold, astride your broomstick,” Thaxia said.

“Seriously, have you been reading romance novels or something?” Draco said. “Because I did come over to look, but I definitely did not say that.”

“She likes them, it’s weird,” Harry said, laughing. “You’ll get used to the quirks. Er, probably.”

Pansy was sprawled out in one of the spots for larger daemons in the bleachers, picnic blanket spread out beneath her and Kit, and Lethe was asleep with her head in her lap. She was reading, but every so often she’d tilt her head back and close her eyes, basking in the sun the same way Kit was. Draco laughed.

“Not the right snitch, mate,” he teased, and zoomed off again.

Harry had played enough matches against him to know exactly how Draco flew, but Draco as a teenager had been very different than Draco _now_. He’d been an obnoxiously showy flier, all loops and tricks for the crowd, but now he was just _easy_ , with a grace Harry had never expected to see from him on a broomstick. He watched him do a fast twist, flipping over, and listened to Thaxia shriek with glee, and figured that even if he just spent all afternoon staring at Draco and Pansy, it really wouldn’t be particularly wasted time.

“Oh, honestly,” he said, a few minutes later, when the Snitch appeared in front of his face, and he grabbed it. “Three – one,” he yelled.

“Quit showing off for Pansy,” Draco called back.

“You quit first,” Harry said, laughing, and tossed the Snitch back out.

Draco drew it even with a fast catch near the hoops and a dive down the pitch that Thaxia appeared rather thrilled with.

“What is this thing, a beginner Snitch?” he called to Pansy, and she waved again.

“Can’t possibly hear you, I’m reading,” she said, going back to her book.

As if to make a point, forty minutes passed and the Snitch was still thoroughly hidden. Draco wasn’t getting frustrated, Harry noted, merely searching more thoroughly, and since no one was nearby, he paused for a moment to dive down in front of Pansy.

“Hi, Dr. Malfoy,” he said, grinning.

“Hello, Professor Potter,” Pansy said, with a smile. “What brings you down here?”

“Oh, nothing,” Harry said. “Just saw something I wanted.”

“Really?” Pansy said. “And what’s that?”

“Well, this,” Harry said, leaning forward off his broomstick to cup her face for a long, warm kiss.

“I suppose I can’t object too much,” Pansy murmured, grinning. Harry laughed.

“Your lipstick tastes like – oh, I don’t know, vanilla icing or something,” he said. “And, by the way, this too,” he said, reaching out quickly to grab the Snitch, which was hovering just above her shoulder.

“It’s meant to, and you’d better have wanted the first one more,” she said, sternly.

“Didn’t actually know this was here,” Harry murmured, with another grin. “So yeah, I’d say.”

“Quit screwing around with my wife and come play,” Draco called, and Harry winked at Pansy.

“Four – three,” he called, cheerfully.

“She doesn’t count,” Draco yelled back. “Although she’s quite lovely.”

“No, but this does,” Harry said, holding the Snitch up in his fist.

“Oh, dirty pool,” Draco said, swooping closer, but he was laughing. “Are we playing to five or calling it?”

“Five!” Thaxia said.

“Calling it before she overexerts herself,” Kit said, laughing. “Come on, you’ll like the next one. Plus the humans swear constantly, it’s fun.”

“Look, if you hadn’t found a _swamp_ last time,” Pansy said.

“You try getting tackled out of a tree,” Draco informed him.

Harry snorted. “This sounds exceptionally fun, really. Across the board.” 

In the bright afternoon sunlight, the margins of the Forbidden Forest weren’t imposing, and they gathered near the edge. Pansy grinned. “Ten minute head start, absolutely no tracking magic, limit of the range is if Harry or Thaxia can’t manage, and Thaxia, you can’t look for Harry. Only real senses.”

“I can’t just… not know where he is,” Thaxia said, dubiously. “I always know.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Draco admitted. “Three teams?”

“They’re bigger!” Thaxia protested.

“Yes, and you can run up and down trees, I’m hardly concerned,” Harry said, laughing. “You’d be my pick anyway.” 

“True,” Thaxia said, slowly. “But we’re at a bit of a disadvantage because we’ve no idea how this game _works_. If I find you, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, jump at the human yelling?” Kit said. “Draco can take a bigger hit than Pansy, but, er –“

“ _Porcupines_ ,” Thaxia said, glaring.

“Just _go_ ,” Pansy said, laughing. “It’s for fun, not that serious.”

“Ten minutes,” Draco said, glancing at his watch.

“You know I nearly failed tracking at the Academy,” Harry said. “So this is totally on you.”

“Oh, good, and I got the terrible human partner,” Thaxia muttered, climbing a tree and rapidly making her way through the tangled understory. “Just find a path and keep up.”

“I feel so very loved,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, and trekked after. It was, at least, a nice walk, and Thaxia seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Left,” she said, and Harry followed her down a deer trail.

“We’re heading toward the edge,” he pointed out. “There’s way less cover.”

“Yes, it’s called a strategy,” Thaxia said, loftily, and Harry sighed and followed her. “You’re terrible at this game thing.”

“This way,” she said, taking a sudden right, and then Harry heard a gleeful cackle and Pansy’s laughter right before Kit tackled him into a pile of leaves.

“I,” Thaxia proclaimed, “am a truly excellent spy.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Harry muttered, spitting out leaves, and rolled to look up at Kit, who flopped on him.

“Ow,” Harry said. “You’re heavy.”

“Oh, there are cushioning charms,” Kit said, rolling his eyes. “That’s what happens when you don’t concede quickly enough.”

“That’s what happens when my daemon is _playing for the other team_ ,” Harry said. 

“Nobody said that was against the rules, Potter,” Pansy said, sounding smug. Thaxia was happily playing with a piece of her hair, gloating from her shoulder.

“Here, kitty kitty,” Draco said, dryly, coming up the path behind them. “Oh, look, you’ve trampled someone else for once, excellent work. Have I mentioned Pansy wins this game 99 times out of 100?”

“I think it helped that Thaxia double crossed me,” Harry said. “Kit, get _off_.”

“His fragile and delicate ego just can’t take it, sweet,” Pansy said. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”

“Oh, fine,” Kit said, rolling off to wriggle in the leaves, and Harry was about to get up when he found Draco had jumped, stealing Kit’s spot on top of him.

“Okay, I already lost,” he said, finally laughing. “I can’t lose _twice_.”

“Oh, please,” Draco said. “You’re lying in a pile of leaves. What did you want me to do, ignore it?”

“Yes, so I can get up!” Harry said.

“Are you sure about that?” Draco said, lowering himself until their noses were nearly touching.

“Oh, well, that,” Harry said, sliding his hands into the back pockets of Draco’s jeans to pull him down closer. “I might be convinced to stay for that.”

Pansy flopped down beside them, laughing at Thaxia, who was diving through the leaves. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just indulging my voyeuristic streak.”

“By all means,” Draco said, leaning down to kiss Harry, who laughed against his mouth.

They kept kissing for what felt like forever, the sort of stupid making out Harry hadn’t even done even when he _was_ a teenager, and when Draco finally pulled away to watch Pansy tussling with the daemons in the rest of the leaf pile, Harry was surprised to find he felt boneless and happy instead of tense.

“She’s hell if she’s neglected,” Draco said.

“Good for you I don’t feel neglected,” Pansy said, with a grin. “Come on, we had a deal. We’re not keeping score. I can always poach him for things later.”

“What am I, property?” Harry mused, dryly, and Lethe and Kit both turned to look at him.

“Yes?” Lethe said, as if it was obvious.

“They’ve made a point that they’re not going to compete over laying claim,” Kit said. “It’s adorable if you think that means they’re still not going to claim you.”

“Oh, well,” Harry said, flopping back in the leaves and flinging some at Pansy. “I suppose there are worse things in the world than being owned by Slytherins.”

“Much,” Draco agreed, looking him up and down. “Besides, you don’t really look as if you’re not enjoying it.”

“That’s because I _do_ like it,” Harry said, half closing his eyes to relax further.

“Hi,” Thaxia said, climbing onto his chest to nudge his nose with hers, and he slid a hand through her fur.

“Hi back,” he said.

“You feel much better,” she informed him.

“Oh, good,” Pansy said, sounding a little relieved. “I was worried last night.”

“No, than in ages, than in like a year at least,” Thaxia said. “We can really keep them?”

“I’m hoping, yes,” Harry murmured. “You’re happy too?”

“Yes,” Thaxia said. “And not just because I got to go flying and in the forest and tricked you. I like it here with them. And here in general.”

Harry laughed. “I know,” he said, sitting up and scooping her into his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Thaxia said, putting her paws on his shoulders. “And leaving London was a good idea, even if I said it was a bad idea.”

“I think so too,” Harry agreed, inhaling the familiar scent of her fur.

He looked up to find Draco and Pansy staring. “What?” he said.

Pansy shook her head. “Just when I think I’m getting to know you,” she said, smiling.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Harry said, and Pansy stood up, brushing leaves off and murmuring a tidying charm at her hair.

“You’re _hoping_ you can stay?” Pansy said, finally laughing. “Harry, we’re quite literally falling over ourselves over you.” She reached to find Draco’s hand, pulling him up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “What do you think, should we keep him?”

“I don’t know,” Draco mused, leaning down to kiss her, warm and affectionate. “We do have a rather good thing going.”

“Yes,” Pansy agreed. “But even you have to admit that Potter makes it a better thing.”

Draco laughed. “Yeah,” he admitted, kissing her again. “I vote yes.”

“Also yes,” Pansy said.

“Yes,” Kit said, firmly, looking up at Harry. “May I have her back, please?”

“Sure,” Harry said, a little flushed.

“Yes,” Lethe said, touching her nose to Thaxia’s. “Enough with not being sure we want you, Harry. Anathaxia.”

“I’m quite sure,” Thaxia said, but she climbed over Kit to nuzzle Lethe’s neck. “Well. Maybe I like hearing it.”

“Vain, overly prissy, tiny carnivore,” Kit said, fondly.

“Slow, sneaky, phlegmatic cat,” Thaxia said. “I don’t have bad things to say about Lethe, she’s nicer to me than you.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “No playing favorites,” he said.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Thaxia said, sounding slightly anxious. “I promise.”

“Kit,” Lethe murmured, nudging him, and he yawned, showing all of his teeth.

“Thaxia,” he said, mildly. “I am going to tease you, and you are going to have to get used to it. But I am fully aware you love us equally.”

“I do,” Thaxia said, firmly, hopping over to Lethe. “I promise.”

“Wow, you caring what someone else thinks, that’s a new one on me,” Harry teased, gently.

“Because I want to _stay_ ,” Thaxia said. “I can’t stay if they don’t like me too.”

“Oh, good lord, we voted already,” Pansy said, bending over to kiss Thaxia on the top of the head.

Harry finally laughed, shaking his head. “She’s getting antsy because I’m getting – wound up,” he said, finally. “I mean, not with the kissing, just…” He smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Seems to be a bit of a two way street. No intimacy, I don’t want any sex. Ridiculous amounts of it, apparently I start wanting sex.”

“God, it’s almost like you’re human, wanting to sleep with the people you’re seeing,” Draco said, rolling his eyes and pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“Sort of novel, actually,” Harry mused.

“You’re cute,” Pansy said, slipping a gloved hand into Harry’s. “Want to walk up to Hogsmeade and get dinner and drink ridiculous amounts? It’s not a students’ weekend and we’re nowhere near any holidays, it ought to be dead.”

“If I can get laid after,” Harry said, laughing.

“Oh, I _suppose_ ,” Pansy said. “Then you’ll have gone on a date and had sex and you can call it Gryffindor dating and tell Granger and Weasley. Or something. I’m still not sure how that works.”

“No one is, they’re Gryffindors,” Draco said, then grinned and leaned to murmur something in Pansy’s ear.

“Yeah, I think so,” she said, then glanced at Harry, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Tag, you’re it,” she said, and dashed off down the lake trail toward the path to Hogsmeade.

“Seriously?” Harry said.

“Seriously,” Draco said, with a grin. “You may have noticed the stalky daemon. Go assert your manly prowess and catch her or something.”

“Oh my god, the seventh years do this,” Harry said.

“I’m getting a head start,” Pansy called back, running backwards for a minute. “Come _on_ , Harry!”

“I think seventeen might generally be a good age around here in terms of sex,” Draco suggested, straight faced.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said, laughing, and finally took off after Pansy.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said when he finally caught up, grabbing her around the waist and twirling her around. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to catch her breath as she laughed.

“It was very nice, actually,” she said, grinning, and leaned in for a kiss. “What happened to the whole pushy pursuit thing?”

“That’s _in_ bed,” Harry said.

“What are you, picky?” Pansy said, grinning. “Literal chasing doesn’t work for you?”

“I’m told you rather like it,” Harry teased.

“Oh, not like _that_ ,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes, and let him wrap an arm around her waist. “The flirty catching part, yes.”

“I can’t decide whether I should make a list of things I totally don’t understand about women or a list of things I totally don’t understand about Slytherins, and how much overlap there’d be,” Harry mused.

“Either none or one hundred percent, and you’d still be wrong about eighty percent of the time,” Draco said, coming up the path. “Trust me, it’s hopeless.”

Pansy made a face at him. “Scare him back to the Gryffindor girls, why don’t you?”

“You know, I get that you’re all weirdly nervous about human things,” Kit said, mildly. “But we’ve said thirty times no one’s going anywhere, so just put some ink on Harry and stop bloody _talking_ about it.”

“Ink?” Harry said, mildly.

“Oh,” Draco said. “I suppose we could, if you liked.”

“It’s sort of like the Hogwarts tattoo thing,” Pansy said. She glanced at Draco. “And we said we weren’t rushing him, so no.”

“Well, just show him ours, then,” Draco said, reasonably. “Actually, bet you they’ve changed already.”

“You both wear rings,” Harry said, blinking. “So – tattoos?”

“It’s not a married thing or a contract thing,” Pansy clarified. “It’s – oh, old magic. You used to use it to show allegiance. Sort of like –“ She thought. “The feudal system, I suppose. The dark mark was a complete and utter corruption of that magic.” She spat on the ground.

“Don’t get her started,” Draco warned, then rolled his eyes. “No, she already has.”

“Well, it was,” Pansy said. “He warped that spell beyond recognition and used it for things it ought never have been used for.”

“So, just to clarify, torture and murder of muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards, _not_ worth getting stirred up over, messing with tattoo spells, very anger inducing,” Harry said.

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Pansy said. “You know I hate him for the rest too. But Tom Riddle knew _nothing_ about all the traditional magic, and he thought he could use it for whatever he wanted, and along with every other awful thing he did –“ 

She paused. “I don’t know, Harry, have you ever gone looking? For any of this stuff?”

“Beyond what I needed to get by?” Harry said. “No, not really. I doubt I’d understand it.”

“Well, that’s her point,” Draco said. “To the Blacks, to the Malfoys, this stuff was always… bread and butter. And Tom Riddle used it without having grown up with it, so he had no respect for the things he was doing or the power he was toying with, and he made it all look like dark magic. Some of it was, some of it wasn’t. But being powerful doesn’t make it wrong or right. It just makes it powerful.”

“It’s not to either of us, it’s to the House,” Pansy said. “Our version. You know, loyalty above all.” She stomped the dirt off her boots, holding open the door to the Three Broomsticks. “We always just get whatever the special is. And I’ll take red.”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry said. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“So what’s the point of all this,” he said. “Because, no offense, but you’re just talking in academic circles around me at this point.”

Pansy laughed, sliding into a booth in the back. “It’s like this,” she said. “The tattoos show people you care about, though they’re abstract. It’s… how you think of the people you care about. Or family you care about. Or a house. And they’re not uniform, his was a cuff, last time I looked, mine’s sort of more like henna. So they used to be used as a test of House allegiance, right? If there wasn’t anything in your tattoo that stood for your house, back when you were a peasant, than you weren’t loyal and off with your head.”

“Oh, lovely,” Harry said. “But, I mean, how on earth would you know? I know it’s not the same, but if you’ve got Slytherin in yours, then it’s a bit vague, isn’t it? Couldn’t you have green or snakes or “SOD OFF, GRYFFINDORS” in giant letters or something?”

Pansy snorted. “They used to make you take veritaserum and describe every piece,” she said. “So yes, it can be utterly abstract, Draco’s Slytherin piece is always something to do with a wolf.” She shrugged. “Mine’s a briar rose.”

“A briar rose,” Harry said, raising an eye brow.

“Yes,” Pansy said. “Muggle fairy tales always screwed it up, you know. Briar roses represent…” She toyed with her knife and fork. “Blood thirst, I suppose. Unbridled ambition. Hunger. In Sleeping Beauty, they ate the servants and the family and anyone who tried to come inside.” She laughed. “Draco says they like skeletal calcium, I say they’re vicious. Anyway, it was never a curse, it was a protection ward, and in the real one, she wakes up and the rose eats her too. Very grim, really.”

“I’m beginning to see why they had to have the veritaserum,” Harry said, as Draco slid in beside him.

“Well, the point is, she was stupid,” Pansy said. “The rose wasn’t her undoing, she was her own. It kept her safe for a hundred years. And she could have used any one of a hundred spells to walk out, or god knows what else, but she doesn’t.”

“And?” Harry said.

“Slytherin’s her briar rose,” Draco said, laughing. “It kept her safe until she was ready to go into the world on her own terms. Though I still think you could have solved the whole damn problem with a few bags of bone meal, a pruning shears, and a halfway decent herbologist.”

“That would make for an utterly terrible story,” Pansy said, with a fond smile. “But that’s part of it, mine has a lot of plants.”

“Mine’s probably gone half sharks,” Draco mused, sliding Harry’s drink over. “Rabbit stew, they’ll have it out shortly. And I rather like those, you know.”

“I’m beginning to get that impression, yes,” Harry said. “What’s she in yours?”

“Orchids,” Draco said. “And bees.”

“She seriously couldn’t have just been, I don’t know, pansies?” Harry said, with a sigh.

“They’re hot house flowers that are impossibly hard to keep, they _hate_ magical plants, they all have different requirements and if you mix them up for a day they’ll half die on you, but they’re provide the stable base for about three families of potions, and they’re the most beautiful things I have in the whole thing,” Draco said, laughing. “And bees, well, flowers love nothing more.” He smiled. “And maybe more to the point, bees shaped flowers to their will and created something that even we find beautiful. You have to respect that.”

“You sound like me, she’s going to catch on that you love her,” Lethe said from under the table, where she was chewing on a mutton bone. Pansy smiled.

“You can have one eventually, if you want, and then you’ll spend about two years trying to figure out what on earth it means, and it’ll change on you,” she said. “They don’t come with a guidebook. Draco figured out the rose thing, actually.”

“It was in her dissertation and she wouldn’t stop complaining about all the inaccurate scholarly conclusions, it became a bit obvious,” Draco said, taking a long swallow of beer.

“I’ll probably be able to figure you out, I know what mine’s looked like for the last few years,” she said.

“Oh, stew,” Draco said, happily, as three bowls appeared. “Now I can get drunk and stop talking about metaphors.”

“I’d offer to get all handsy, but we’re in a public bar, and privacy charms are useless these days,” Harry said, with a sigh.

“Oh ye of little faith,” Pansy said, laughing. “Who do you think you’re talking to, a second year?” She drew a wand pattern Harry had never seen before, with a murmured spell, and suddenly everything else in the bar had faded into background noise.

“Ten theoretical points to Slytherin,” Draco said, taking another bite of stew. Harry jumped when he found Pansy’s feet in his lap.

“It’s kind of odd,” he mused. “You’d think being an Auror would be all – I don’t know, finess and spying, but it’s mostly blowing things up.” He laughed. “I don’t think – well, actually, I do think you’re probably more powerful than me, but half of it’s that I don’t _know_ any of this stuff.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “And there’s no point in you learning it, because what on earth would you use it for? You’ll never be as good as she is, but on the other hand, she can’t come in the greenhouse without half of it trying to eat her, so it evens out.”

“Is there – more like that?” Harry said, curiously. “Types and things?”

Draco stared for a moment. “Potter, has this whole bloody Hogwarts thing taught you _nothing_? Everyone’s magic is unique. Mine’s in growing things, and making them.” He drank more beer, shaking his head. “If I wanted, I could use a pottery wheel or a loom. There’s a whole body of magic that’s meant to be put _into_ things, it’s how you get potions.”

“And I am firmly, resolutely a caster,” Pansy said, laughing. “I’m awful at nearly anything else, but it’s… all this finesse. If you cast a spell and moved your wand tip while you did it, I doubt it would have a noticeable impact on the outcome. But with me, it does.”

“And mine?” Harry said, dryly. “Don’t yell at me for not knowing.”

“I wouldn’t, we don’t teach it, and we ought to be dividing students up for classes that way instead of by house, it’s ludicrous,” he said. “McGonagall says the entire system is currently predicated on some subjects being more challenging than others, and it’s bullshit, we both know we’ve got students in the advanced potions class who really aren’t all that good at potions.”

“Calling and finding, I think,” Pansy mused. “Draco?”

“Yes,” Draco said, laughing. “And power. You’ve got this utterly raw magnetism, Potter, it’s sort of magnificent to watch actually. Magic wants to be near you. There’s a potion you can take that lets you _see_ the currents of it? I was using it on the aquarium while we were trying to get the levels right. And it takes a few hours to wear off.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Everything in this castle turns towards you, no matter how slightly.”

“A ripple in the pool,” Harry said, thoughtfully. “That’s what McGonagall said I was.”

“The other way, actually,” Draco said. “As if you skipped a stone and all the water came toward you.” 

“Huh, _that’s_ why he works so well as a source, he’s not really a source, he’s a channel,” Pansy said. 

“It’s rather fortunate you decided to stick to the nice team and poking around with magical salamanders,” Draco said, laughing. “You would have been an infinitely more formidable opponent than Voldemort. He kept trying to make magic do things it didn’t want to do, and then it wouldn’t work the way he wanted. The, er, blowing things up school of things, really. All you’d have to do was ask.”

“That’s infinitely reassuring,” Harry said, tapping his glass on the table three times, and it refilled.

Pansy snorted. “It’s witches and wizards too, actually,” she said. “I thought for a long time that it was that you were famous, but then I sort of wondered why so _many_ people wanted to be around you when –“ She glanced at Thaxia. “You’re really not that fond of people.”

“No,” Harry admitted.

Draco laughed. “Yeah, but it’s –“ He gestured. “You turn the charm on sometimes. And being the focus of that is insane.”

“That feels weirdly coercive,” Harry said, frowning. “Do you mean to say people do things I want because I’m getting them to?”

“No, you goose,” Pansy said, kicking his knee. “He means it’s sort of like turning your face up to the sun, only it’s your magic. You can always put on sunglasses or turn away, but it feels good. And it’s different, because you’re used to being in the sun, but you’re not really used to your magic paying attention to someone and liking the attention.”

“Oh,” Harry said, relaxing a little.

“You’re very uptight about this whole coercion thing,” Kit observed.

“I don’t –“ Harry made a face. “Sex is different for me than for most people. And I’ve been under Imperius, and I’ve had love potions slipped to me god knows how many times. No one’s ever managed anything, but I think I might go insane if someone tried to take advantage, so I _don’t_. I get weird about mistletoe, even, and that’s just like – you can kiss them on the cheek if you like.” He laughed softly. “Someone let Fleur decorate the Burrow one year for Christmas, I think, you know, trying to welcome her to the family and everything, and she didn’t realize that Fred and George had messed around with all the stuff in the attic, so she just put up tons of it, thinking that it was nice greenery, and no one really wanted to hurt her feelings and take it down…” He snorted. “I kept getting caught under it with Hermione and Fleur, I think Ron and Bill _and_ Ginny all wanted to kill me by the end of the night.”

“It was all right with Charlie,” Thaxia said, innocently.

“Yes, thank you, Thaxia,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Nothing more delightful than being stuck with the person you’re interested in under mistletoe.”

“Huh,” Pansy said, then her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Why do you like him of all people? You said you only liked people you got to know.”

“I spent like six months working dragons with him when I wasn’t sure what the fuck I wanted to do and was trying to come to grips with the war being over,” Harry said. “He’s a good guy. He helped me a lot working through things. And Thaxia adores Chrysippia. Pip.”

“She’s a tiger,” Thaxia said, sniffing Harry’s drink. “A very _big_ tiger.”

“Oh, really,” Kit said.

“Do you still like him?” Pansy said, casually.

“Why, are you going to go cast dark hexes or something?” Harry said, then paused with his hand half way to his drink.

“Oh my god,” he said, with a sigh. “You two cannot go killing off anyone I’ve ever found attractive.”

“We can if you _liked_ them,” Pansy said.

“A _tiger_ , Thaxia, _really_?” Kit demanded.

“Oh, hush,” Thaxia said, climbing underneath the table. “You’re mine and I love you. She was pretty and that’s all. Besides, you’re bigger. And charming and mine. Lethe, are you jealous too?”

“No,” Lethe said, but she sounded rather put out.

“And you have much better fur, and you’re smarter and mine and I love you,” Thaxia said, firmly. “Get closer, I can’t reach you both.”

“Okay, firstly,” Harry said. “He’s very straight. Secondly, I see him once or twice a year. Thirdly, and the one that actually _matters_ , I’m _taken_ , so no, I don’t still like him.” He took a sip of whiskey. “Yes, I still think he’s attractive, but you’d have to be blind not to, you’ve seen him. No, I no longer want to sleep with or do anything else with him.”

“Ugh,” Pansy said. “That’s worse than horrible girl Weasley. He actually _liked_ that one.”

“Agreed,” Draco said.

“I once thought of Hermione naked during seventh year,” Harry said, dryly. “Should we disown her too?”

Pansy waved a hand. “Please, that doesn’t count, I’m reasonably certain everyone’s thought about Granger naked once or twice. It’s only the liking and dating and sleeping with bit.”

“There was a decent amount of sleeping with,” Harry admitted. “I was an idiot for a while. I thought maybe I was gay, and then I thought maybe I was totally defective, and then I realized I just hated casual sex. Please don’t bomb London. Or off any of Charlie’s former field assistants.” He paused. “Or any portion of Australia, that was sort of an inappropriate business trip for the conservation trust.”

Pansy sighed. “I have slept with _two_ men who were not Draco, and I hated it both times.”

Draco leaned back. “And I’ve slept with, oh, I don’t know, Pansy, while we’re sharing scorecards.”

“Stop washing me, it was all years ago,” Thaxia protested, still under the table. “I only smell like you. Honestly!” 

“This is really not the drunken foreplay I was hoping for,” Draco said, sounding irritated.

“Okay, look,” Harry said. “I did all that, and I didn’t enjoy any of it, and the sex with Ginny was okay but the idea of spending an entire day together like we did today and having dinner would have made me run screaming for the office, and _no one else_ is ever going to get to sleep with me again, so you have both won. And my very firmly tamped down thing for you two was far worse than anything with Charlie, so you win there too, and we’re going to go home and have great sex after spending all day together and being happy, so you’ll beat Ginny. All right?”

“I find this a vaguely compelling argument,” Pansy said, finally. “But I think you should have to talk more about the part where you like us.”

“Yes,” Draco said, gesturing with his glass. “That part.” 

“Seriously?” Harry said, then shook his head. “All right. I’m dying to make you both lose all this –“ He gestured back at Draco with his glass. “Carefully cultivated upper-class Slytherin façade.”

“It’s hardly –“ Pansy started.

“Oh, but it is,” Harry murmured, laughing. “You, I want to fuck _hard_ , until you’re absolutely begging me for more, and then I’m going to make you come so hard you get loud, however many times it takes to get you to let _go_ and relax, and then I’m going to get you off while you’re like that to show you how good it feels, and I _might_ stop when you literally can’t take any more. Maybe.”

He took another drink, looking over the rim of his glass at Draco. “And you, I’m still working on, but I don’t think hard and fast is the way to go there.”

“No?” Draco said, meeting his gaze.

“No,” Harry said. “Her, the intimacy’s in the verbal foreplay and the really, really physical part of things. You, the intimacy’s in… all the in between.” He laughed. “So making out and feeling each other up for a few hours wouldn’t be the worst idea. And then, no offense, Pansy, I’ll show you exactly how if you like, I’m going to show you _why_ you don’t mind the things I did in Australia, because I’m very, very good with my mouth.”

“Well, I think he’s sort of awful, but I might be willing to consider it,” Pansy remarked, leaning back with her wine glass.

“Agreed,” Draco said. “I’m really going to need to switch to something stronger to get through tonight.”

Harry grinned. “And what about you two?” he said.

Pansy looked at Draco, considering. “You want to let him?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he said, firmly.

“We don’t know, we’re letting you lead,” Pansy informed him. “And before you get started, yes, we’ll work on it, yes, we want one another, and yes, we get why we need _us_ to work. But we want a little more of us working to have something to kill the nerves before we go mess around alone.”

“Yeah, all right,” Harry agreed. “I think you might freeze up and worry on your own for a little bit, let’s not worry about it.” He shrugged. “I sort of figured if we all screwed around enough in bed you two would eventually get desperate enough to just go for it. No rush if it takes a while, we’ve got time. Plus then I get to watch, which isn’t exactly a hardship.”

“No?” Draco said, sounding a little surprise, and Harry snorted.

“Do you like watching me and Pansy?”

“Yes,” Draco said, firmly. “Well. I have so far, anyway.”

“So I like watching _you_ with Pansy,” Harry said. “That’s hardly strange.”

“I suppose we do make a rather attractive couple,” Pansy said, refilling her wine glass.

Harry laughed. “And you’re stupidly in love with one another, you think I don’t want to watch you two turning that into sex?”

Pansy flushed. “Maybe,” she allowed. “Can I ask you a question?” She paused. “Hold on.”

She leaned across the table, cupping her hand around Draco’s ear and murmuring something. He made a face, drumming his fingers on the table, but nodded.

“Yeah, all right,” he said. “If you’d like.”

“Okay, can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Er, sure,” Harry said. “Now that you’ve talked to Draco, apparently.”

“Why, uh.” She twirled the stem of her wine glass, not looking at either of them. “Have you got any idea why we’re so bad at this on our own when everything else works?”

“Oh, an easy one, thanks,” Harry said, sighing and leaning back against the booth. “I don’t know. Honestly. But I can guess. I think you both value the illusion of control. Well, you value control, but you value the illusion of control just as much. And with what you’ve got, even in the beginning, it’s like… what I was saying earlier, you walk up to this edge and before that you can still think and _do_ and brush it off. I’m scared of jumping because I think the other person won’t. You two are scared of jumping because it means you have to give up all that control, and you’re both terrified of what might happen, and of what the other person will think when they see underneath every perfect mask.”

“And you think you can… fix that?” Pansy said.

“ _No_ ,” Harry said, firmly. “I am not fixing anything, because nothing is broken, there is nothing broken about either of you, about your marriage, or even about your sex life. But I think at first it was mostly fear and the way we’re all nervous at first and now it’s gotten so much worse because you’ve been together so long that there’s all this pressure and frustration from how you feel _outside_ of bed, and there’s what you two perceive as failure behind it.” He shrugged. “So I’ll get you both to jump with me first, because there’s less pressure, and then, I don’t know.” He laughed. “I’ll coax you _both_ in with me or shove you over the edge together if you’re being stubborn.”

“Anti-coercion except when it comes to shoving people off cliffs,” Draco said. “Er, sex cliffs. This metaphor hardly makes sense.”

“No, it does,” Pansy said, slowly. “Actually.”

Harry snorted. “I won’t really shove,” he promised. “Or maybe I’ll get fed up and do it eventually, but you’ve probably got like a year before that point, and Pansy’s going to trip you and knock you in way sooner.”

“He’s right,” Pansy said, laughing. “Can we go on Harry’s next collecting trip so we can jump off cliffs in Australia? I’ve sort of always wanted to.”

“As long as he’s not sleeping with any Australian witches or wizards,” Draco muttered.

“ _Which I will not be_ ,” Harry said, firmly. “Thaxia, please tell me you’re sorted.”

“We’re sorted,” Kit said, firmly.

“Thaxia?”

“Little pinned,” she said. “I’m under them.”

“Is that… comfortable?” Pansy hazarded.

“More oxygen and less wolf fur would be nice,” Thaxia said. “But they need to squash me at the moment, so it’s all right.”

“It’s this or biting, and she’s too little for biting,” Kit said.

“Mm,” Pansy agreed, then glanced at Harry, taking a slow slip of wine. “Well. If you’re ever feeling insecure, Harry.”

He snorted. “Or if I’m really into the sex we’re having? I’d suggest you brush up on healing charms.”

“She’ll leave it, you know,” Draco said, dryly. “And probably wear low cut shirts all week and cause all sorts of ludicrous gossip.”

Pansy grinned. “I do enjoy ludicrous gossip. Though I suppose I ought to save getting him _really_ wound up until before the holidays.”

“This is part of your weird possessive thing, isn’t it,” Harry said. “You do realize there’s utterly no point if Ginny isn’t going to be there. And Hermione is just going to fix it.”

“Oh no, Granger won’t,” Pansy said. “Not if I explain. She’s a woman. She’ll understand. And there’s always a point, Potter. The other Weasley might be there. Or, you know, people who need to know.”

Harry glanced at Draco. “I suppose hoping you’ll play nice with my family and not get all possessive is a lost cause,” he said, with a sigh.

“I never said I wouldn’t play nice,” Pansy protested. “I like Hermione and Fleur and Bill and I’m thoroughly willing to like all the children, I’ve always wanted more nieces and nephews. That’s –“ She paused. “Well, I don’t know how many, but it’s a perfectly decent count, thank you.”

“Well, we usually invite Teddy and Andromeda too,” Harry said. “So you’ll have family too.”

Draco finally laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “The idea of a large Christmas that involves relatives you actually like is so strange that I can’t quite wrap my head around doing anything with you at it.” He paused. “They won’t mind, will they?”

“Well, one, if anyone does, they’re making peace with me or I’m not going, and two, we’re starting to reach the point where kids equal adults, nobody cares about extra people if they’ll watch a baby or something while Hermione’s losing her mind over pies.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Pansy said. “We like babies.”

“Still not used to that,” Harry said, laughing.

“What, did you think we ate them for breakfast or something, Potter?” Draco said, laughing. “They’re _babies_. They’re cute with fluffy daemons.”

“This went from the sexy place back to the totally not sexy place,” Harry pointed out, laughing.

“Well, they _are_ sort of tangential to one another,” Pansy pointed out.

“Not _tonight_ they’re not,” Harry said, making a face. 

“Oh, fine,” Pansy said, cupping her chin in a hand and looking at him.

“What?” Harry said.

“It’s rather odd, you know,” she said. “You’re just – there, across the table.”

“Yes?” Harry hazarded.

Pansy laughed. “Look, if you’d told me at any point in my life before this year that I’d have been sitting here waiting to get home so I could let _Harry Potter_ fuck me, I’d have laughed myself sick.”

Harry made a face. “I am just a guy,” he said, firmly. “On a date. And if anyone gets up in it about me, I will be way too irritated for sex, because I hate that.”

“Oh, I know,” Pansy said, running her foot up the inside of his leg. “I meant more like, I spent enormous amounts of time in school thinking you were the biggest prick alive, and it turns out you never were.” She laughed. “If you’d been put in Slytherin, I’d probably have thought you were hot as hell. It’s all just context, I suppose.”

“Or adulthood,” Harry said, dryly. “Funny how those things stop mattering.” He laughed. “So this fancying me thing,” he said. “Entirely because you like my suggestions about spiders?”

“Oh god,” Draco said. “I wanted to kill her for weeks, she wouldn’t shut up. She’s worse about you than she is about Granger.”

“You weren’t, I don’t know, jealous?” Harry said.

“Of course I was,” Draco said, waving a hand at the bar and taking the scotch that appeared. “On the other hand, the fact that I was keeping my mouth shut about the fact that I was basically in the same boat wasn’t helping anything.”

“You were _insufferable_ ,” Lethe said. “I was ready to eat your liver for breakfast.”

“Look, I don’t think I’d seen you in person in years, and you’re ridiculously attractive, and, I don’t know, you didn’t throw being a Slytherin in my face this time,” Pansy said, with a shrug. “And I never really thought you were – well, I knew you were reasonably good at getting yourself out of ludicrous situations, but it’s not like I thought you were _smart_. I always figured Hermione did all the heavy lifting.”

“Well, she sort of did,” Harry said. “But it took me a while to realize – hell, I don’t know. That I was better half the time without a wand, and I had no idea who I was beyond the fact that I was lucky enough to get to do fucking horrific things a few times a year because Voldemort couldn’t just leave well enough alone. I didn’t have time to do any normal teenager things, and I sure as fuck didn’t have any time for introspection.”

“That’s the difference,” Draco noted. “You know who you are, and you’ve learned how to know who other people are as well.”

“You don’t apologize for things,” Pansy mused. “I mean – for being good at things, or being who you are, and you won’t let anyone else either, and I love that. I want to take that to bed.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t see the point,” he said. “If people don’t like it, they can go fuck themselves. I’ve got who I need, and that’s plenty for me. If people want to give me a hard time for coming here and doing the things I need to do to be happy and not doing what everyone expected, well – I don’t owe anyone anything. I never did. And I gave them far more than I had to give for most of my life, so my account’s thoroughly in the black.”

“There, that,” Pansy said, laughing. “The total disdain for what anyone else thinks that borders on arrogance. That’s Slytherin.”

“No, that’s Potter,” Draco said, laughing. “There’s a fair number of Slytherins who spend far too much time caring what other people think.”

“Well, not _us_ ,” Pansy said.

“That’s not strictly true,” Draco said, downing his drink. “We spend rather a lot of time worrying what the other one thinks.” He laughed. “And _far_ too much time worrying about what Potter thought.”

“I’m curious,” Harry said, laughing. “What on earth do you _do_ with that? I mean – realizing you were both interested. I’d imagine you didn’t think it was going to end up like this.”

“Fought a lot,” Draco said, dryly. “Though there was sort of a lot of intellectual dirty talk about how brilliant you were. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I don’t think we’d have done anything about it if you’d only been interested in one of us,” Pansy admitted. “Well. Probably fought more.”

“Hypothetical what ifs that are utterly unnecessary, because I like you both,” Harry said, firmly, then laughed. “I think I’m fishing for compliments. That’s the whiskey talking.”

“We probably ought to stay sober enough to, you know, walk back,” Draco pointed out.

“Yes, but that’s why we have a fully stocked liquor cabinet and a wine rack,” Pansy said, then flushed.

“Do you care?” she said. “I mean – the drinking before we… do anything.”

“God, no,” Harry said, making a face. “Please don’t think that just because I’m an arrogant jackass who disguises it well, I’m any less nervous. New people, remember?”

“Also, I’ll ride Kit, but I can’t take much more squashing,” Thaxia said, sounding muffled. “And they’ll be better if you’re drunk.”

“Home will feel better,” Lethe said, firmly.

“Are daemons always so –“ Harry said.

“No,” Kit said. “But they’re both wound and it’s driving us both crazy.” He paused. “And we’re both large carnivores, we don’t like things getting between us and what we want.”

“I thought it wasn’t about sex, with you,” Harry said.

Draco snorted. “I’ll get the tab while you philosophize.”

“It’s not,” Lethe said. “But everything else, yes, that’s there. And sex comes across as intensity, and so it’s all… much more intense than it ordinarily would be.”

“Or I’m just worth arguing over,” Thaxia said, finally wriggling up and climbing into Pansy’s lap. “I like to think the latter.” She propped her paws on her shoulders, meeting her nose to nose. “I love you and you are one of Harry’s people.”

“All right,” Pansy said, a little startled.

Thaxia sighed. “It means something different coming from me than from him, you know that. I can’t lie about these things. You’d feel it in touching me.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, considering, and reached to stroke her fur. Harry bit down hard on his lower lip.

“Don’t touch me too much, he’s already wound up,” Thaxia warned, but nuzzled Pansy’s temple. “And you’re both what he’s wanted for a long time, we didn’t think we would find it, so I’m happy. And he’s happy. And I’m going to go convey the same thing to Draco so he settles some too.”

“Oh, all right,” Pansy said, fondly. “We love you too.”

Harry watched Draco jump as Thaxia jumped from a bar stool to his shoulders, then start to laugh.

“It’s very odd,” Kit said, resting his head on Harry’s lap. “I mean – Lethe and I are very alike, we’ve never had trouble. She’s so –“

“Small and feisty and entirely a pain?” Harry suggested.

Kit snorted. “I was going to say different, but yes, I suppose that will do.”

“Well, she’s yours,” Harry said. “And having tried it other ways, that’s _entirely_ her choice, so you probably ought to feel honored, she’s particular as all hell.”

“I do,” Kit said, and Lethe slid out from under the table with a wide yawn.

“We do,” she corrected. “I’m going to go collect her, she’s making Draco laugh too much.”

“Funny how she’s so –“ Pansy said, tilting her head. “Those two are thick as thieves. She’s far more polite with me.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t read into it, honestly. It’s not that I don’t have the same feelings for Draco,” he said. “I just know where Draco’s at. Maybe we know each other better from all those years of hating each other, maybe it’s our weirdly overlapping history, maybe it’s that we’re both men, I don’t know.” He laughed. “Plus I’ve always been much worse with women.”

“I hardly think you’re bad with women, Harry,” Pansy said, dryly.

“Well, let’s hope not,” Harry said, with a grin.

“God, stop that,” Pansy said, cheeks pink.

“Quit getting her all stirred up,” Draco said. “Your daemon’s being weirdly affectionate.”

“I will bite you,” Thaxia said. “Be nice to Lethe and Kit.”

“There we go,” Draco said.

“I needed her to, she obliged,” Lethe said, stretching. “Me or Kit, Thaxia?”

“Dunno,” she said, considering. “If I ride Draco, you can run, do you want to run?”

“Actually,” Lethe said, “yes.”

“You can’t _just_ ride Draco,” Kit said. 

“You know, how about Thaxia rides on my shoulders,” Harry said. “She’s used to it. And she _is_ my daemon.”

“Oh, all right,” Kit said, sounding a little disgruntled.

“Please quit being all – weird and human and antsy about sex so I can go back to riding the tallest person and not being squished,” Thaxia said, but she curled around Harry’s neck happily.

“Hey, Kit,” Harry said, crouching down. “C’mere.”

“Please don’t do anything that’s going to make me lose my footing in public,” Pansy said, dryly.

“No,” Harry said, leaning until he could get nose to nose with Kit. “We’re good together, all right? I won’t hurt her.”

Kit flicked the tip of his tail. “I think she’s concerned about the opposite,” he said. “But I don’t know, I haven’t talked to her and I’m antsy.”

“You,” Draco said, eyes narrowing at Pansy. He tugged her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her in. “Are you worried I’ll care if he makes good on that?”

“I don’t know,” Pansy admitted, then ducked her head. “Maybe.”

Draco laughed outright, burying his face in her hair to press a kiss to the top of her head. “No,” he said, firmly. “You’re an idiot.”

“It’s all well and good to say we won’t be jealous,” Pansy said, looking up at him, biting the corner of her mouth.

“What you and I have is exceptional,” Draco murmured. “You know that, darling. If what you and Harry have is exceptional too, well, as long as I get to watch. And who knows, I might pick up a few things.”

“No,” Pansy said, softly. “I don’t want you to be Harry.”

“Good, because I’m not going to be,” Draco said, firmly. “But I’ll be me, and you be you, and we’ll stop shying away from this.” He bent to kiss her. “Sometimes it takes someone else pointing it out to make you realize you’re still carrying around things you shouldn’t be. We’re not eighteen and terrified of what the world’s going to turn into, Pansy.”

“No,” she said. “We’re not.”

“And you’re everything I’d ever hoped for when I married you,” Draco said, pulling her a little closer. “Actually, beyond anything I could have thought of back then. Maybe it’s time to lean into that.”

“You, talking about leaning in,” Pansy said, shaking her head, but she was smiling.

“Me, talking about leaning in,” Draco agreed.

“I’m starting to think three people is complicated,” Thaxia remarked.

Harry laughed. “A bit,” he said, clearing his throat. “But the piece no one gets is, you aren’t dividing your focus or your affection, you’re just giving the same thing twice. It isn’t as if I’ve got some sort of finite supply.” He grinned. “I mean, please don’t expect me to really have any focus whatsoever if I’m in the middle of something in bed, but I don’t expect that of either of you either.”

“He’s oddly sensible,” Draco remarked, wrapping his arm around Pansy’s waist as she murmured the privacy shield down. “Though I’m starting to wonder if he’s done this threeway thing before.”

“I know,” Pansy said, laughing.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Golden trio, anyone?” he said. “Though I’ll admit to not being able to speak to the sex aspect of it, we were busy killing evil things.”

“You know, not that I don’t like Weasley, but I’ll never understand _that_ particular choice,” Pansy mused.

“Oh, god,” Harry said. “No. I mean – we work, but we don’t work like that. It would be –“ He made a face. “She’s sort of like my sister. And no, I have absolutely no idea why she and Ron aren’t like that, so please don’t ask me.” 

“Oh, all right,” Pansy said, doing up her coat. “I suppose it’s best if I don’t have to be jealous of Hermione.”

“Come _on_ ,” Kit said, irritably.

Harry snorted. “I’m going to suggest you need to get laid, Dr. Malfoy,” he teased.

“I’ll take that under consideration,” Pansy said, laughing. “You’re decent at reading people. I don’t know, third opinion?”

Draco snorted and leaned down to murmur something in her ear, and Pansy’s cheeks turned red again. “Quit that,” she said. “You’re just making it worse.”

“You did ask,” Draco said, innocently, holding open the door.

“Yes, and that was not a fair answer,” Pansy said.

“Hi, still here,” Harry said, and Draco grinned. 

“If I’d wanted you to hear, I wouldn’t have whispered, now would I have?”

“Humans,” Lethe said, irritably, and took off at a trot home, running at the very edge of her range with Draco. Harry watched Kit take off in chase, and rolled his shoulders, considering.

“That edgy, huh?” he said, mildly.

“I could use a drink,” Draco said. “Possibly more than one. And before you get all picky about sleeping me with me while I’m drunk, we’re in a relationship, I can’t think of anything you’d do that I don’t want to do, and you have my permission.”

“Same here,” Pansy said, firmly. “If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you to stop. Though you’ll have to watch him, he pours strong drinks.”

Harry laughed. “I usually take things neat, but I’ll take that under consideration. Though I’m surprised, I’d have thought you _measured_.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It’s alcohol, not potions.”

“And you’re not particular in the least,” Pansy said, innocently.

The walk back to the castle wasn’t bad – though it had gotten cold – but Draco and Pansy both got significantly more quiet, and even Harry could pick up on everyone’s nerves.

“Christ,” he said, finally, when they got back to the tower, shrugging off his coat. “Hello. No one here is seventeen and losing their virginity. Could we all relax before we ruin the sex?”

Pansy blushed, then laughed. “He’s right,” she admitted.

“Well, depending on definition,” Draco said, glancing over his shoulder at him as he hung up a scarf.

“Okay, no, there aren’t like seventeen kinds of virginity,” Harry said, laughing. “Or at least, none of the spells or potions or creatures I’ve met think so. I’m pretty sure once you’ve exchanged bodily fluids, you’ve exchanged bodily fluids, the end.” 

“Agreed,” Pansy said, laughing.

“Say the person who’s done this before and the person who isn’t doing it,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“Neither are we,” Harry said, dropping Thaxia on the couch so she could jump over to Kit. “At least, not tonight. That’s _really_ one of those things that’s a lot easier if you’re relaxed, and I’ve sort of given up the ghost on anyone actually relaxing tonight. Though out of curiosity –“ He started the fire, glancing up at Draco. “Preference?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Draco said. “Though I suppose we’ll see.”

“Me either,” Harry said.

“Wh –“ Pansy started, then flushed. “Oh. Right.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, darling, _that_ ,” he said. “She gets all wound up when you get pushy, though.”

“I do not,” Pansy said, then laughed. “Okay. Maybe some.”

“I already knew that,” Harry said, dryly, taking a glass from Draco. He passed a glass of wine to Pansy.

He found Draco watching him, looking considering. “I want – everything you said,” he said, swallowing. “But I need to unwind more, and you two do a whole lot better at the flirting thing than I do, so –“ He laughed. “My feelings won’t be hurt if you focus.”

“Oh, no,” Harry said, laughing, and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “None of that’s _untrue_ , but ask for what you really want.”

“I just did,” Draco said, nipping his lower lip, and Harry laughed. 

“Come on, say it, she’ll like it.”

“No secrets around you, are there?” he murmured, clearing his throat. “All right. I want to watch you two. I liked it before.”

“Interesting,” Pansy said. “Cat and, er, fisher, Potter?”

“Sure, although the fact that you both use my last name all the time is still weird,” Harry said, laughing. “But in a minute. Let me see something downstairs.”

“You know, Draco’s supposed to be the one obsessing over the sharks,” Pansy called. “And it’s an affectionate gesture.”

“Drink more wine,” Harry called back. “I’ve got to find something.”

Harry hadn’t given Hermione the password to the top floor, but he rather suspected she wasn’t going to be particularly surprised when he went to London. He rummaged in the upper left hand drawer of his desk, fingers searching for the catch, and then opened the compartment.

_Love you, see you tomorrow, H_ she’d written, and Harry grabbed the box and headed back upstairs.

“I had Hermione pick me up something from my Gringotts vault, ostensibly for Draco to look at,” he said, handing Draco his glass for a refill. “And this is –“ He considered. “Not a thing to mess around with, I suppose, you know?”

“That’s far too big to be a ring,” Pansy said, suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

“This,” Harry said, opening it. It was a simple necklace, a tiny row of pearls on a curved bar hung on delicate gold chain.

“Hold on,” Draco said. “I want to see that.”

“Hey,” Pansy protested, but Harry handed it over with a smile.

“It was my mother’s, and it’s actually a Black heirloom, it was a gift from Sirius on her wedding day,” he said. “I’ve got plenty of things from my dad to her, but this seemed… more like you.”

“Potter, are these _seed_ pearls?” Draco said, holding it up to the light.

“Yes,” Harry said, laughing. “See my point?”

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “ _Sirius Black_ gave this to your mother when she married your father.” Draco glanced at him. “It’s rather a pity you look like a carbon copy, or I’d accuse them of something untoward.”

“Oh, no, he and Lupin were together,” Harry said, with a gesture. “But my dad was, I don’t know, his family.”

“Yes, more of a gift for your father, really, she wouldn’t have gotten the meaning,” Draco said.

“Well, I don’t know either, so I’m just irritated that you’re not letting me look,” Pansy said, and Draco held out the box to her. 

“It’s exquisite,” she said, softly. “But it’s Black? It seems a bit… understated for them.” She paused. “Oh, god, that sounded like I didn’t like it, that’s not what I meant, I do.”

Harry laughed. “Pansy, you hate enormous necklaces,” he said. “I said I’d picked this one for a reason.”

“No, it’s about the most Slytherin gift he could have given you,” Draco said, laughing. “These aren’t pearls, they’re seeds. There’s this really ornate type of white rose, it’s used in wedding bouquets. Well, it _used_ to be used in wedding bouquets.”

“It’s a very Slytherin flower,” Harry said, dryly. “They’re called unicorn roses. They plants and blooms will wither and die if anyone who isn’t a virgin touches them.” He shook his head, taking a swallow of his drink. “Really ludicrous, actually, the maid of honor had to be both a maid and honorable, she was in charge of the bouquet and no one other than her and the bride could touch it, so I suppose you really had to hope that your younger sister or cousin or whatever was decent at flower arranging and hadn’t been getting up to tricks with the stable boy. It’s why the bride hands the roses off to only her, then she passes them back.”

“The implication being, you’d damn well better be able to carry a bouquet full of them if you were going to marry someone of good breeding,” Draco said, looking at the necklace again. “And they were – oh, this ultimate decadence, really, because of course they were roses, which are finicky, and of course they couldn’t be cared for by anyone who had ever so much as fooled around, so that left out all the gardeners. And to keep anyone _common_ from getting the things, they were bred so you couldn’t propagate them from cuttings, you could only grow them from seed. And growing roses from seed is… its own particular challenge, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing, which, well, who’s going to know what they’re doing with plants when they’re a fifteen year old girl. They weren’t exactly in every rose garden.”

“Yes, and this has what to do with the necklace, exactly?” Pansy said. “Not that I don’t thoroughly enjoy listening to the two of you go on about flowers and female purity.”

“Well, they’re also called unicorn roses because, oh, I don’t know, about every decade they produce one of these,” Draco said. “No one knows why, there’s some theory that it’s got something to do with the magic of how they were invented, no one’s really been able to figure that out, so the current best guess is a potion, and most purity potions involve ground pearls. But they’re _exquisitely_ rare, I’ve never even seen _one_. And that necklace has twenty or so. I mean, I’ve no idea in terms of sentimental value, but that thing’s probably worth a few thousand times what the engagement ring is.” He laughed. “Hell, I think that might be worth more than everything in the _Malfoy_ vault, and that’s saying something.”

Pansy paused, looking at Harry. “And this was your mother’s. And you want to _give_ it to me?”

“Yes,” Harry said, simply. “I’ll put it on if you want.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, still staring at it. “Yes, please, if it won’t ruin it.”

“Well, the seeds won’t grow, but they’re pearls, so they were hardly going to anyway,” Draco pointed out. “And I highly doubt it’s been handled by only virgins to date, unless Harry was conceived by extraordinary measures.”

She turned, pulling her hair aside, and Harry took it out of the box, attaching it around her neck with a series of murmured locking charms and spells.

“I’ll have to take it off again, the thing is keyed to me,” he said. “So just say when.”

Draco grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d consider wearing that the next time one or the other of our parents summons us for legal issues.”

“Draco,” Pansy scolded, reaching up to touch it. She reached for Harry, leaning in for a kiss. “It’s beautiful, Harry, thank you.” She bit her lip, smiling. “I suppose thank you doesn’t really cover this one.”

“No, please,” he said, laughing. “I think you wearing it would have made Sirius very happy, but I’ve got to admit, I’m reasonably certain part of the reason he did it was so that all his relatives would have to see it on a muggleborn witch, so I’m sure it would make him even happier to have you wear it to aggravate Draco’s parents.” He kissed her forehead. “And it’s _not_ a special occasion necklace. Wear it as much or as little as you like.”

“Said like someone with very, very old money,” Draco said, laughing, and flopped back on the couch. “Though then again, I suppose you’ve got that goddamned invisibility cloak, we all ought to be afraid of your vault.”

“It means something to me because it was my mother’s, and because it was from Sirius,” Harry said, with a smile. “Not because it’s worth a lot of money.”

“I wasn’t implying otherwise,” Draco said, watching him. “Merely that I’m a bit concerned I won’t be able to match you at Christmas.”

Harry snorted. “Just for that, I’m getting you a cactus,” he said.

“One where there are only about four in the entire world and it blooms once every hundred years,” Draco agreed. “You’re going to have to find me some sort of Lazarus species if you’d like to match that necklace.”

“No, I just have to find you something that suits and that means something to me,” Harry said, laughing, and sank down next to him, holding out a hand for Pansy.

She settled in his lap, leaning against his chest, and rested her head on his shoulder, laughing softly. “You couldn’t have saved that for _after_? Now I’m too flattered for raunchy sex.”

“No, because the point is, I don’t care about the sex,” Harry said, sliding a hand up to run his fingers through her hair. He tugged one of her curls absently, then laughed.

“I mean, all right, I’m dying to get you naked,” he admitted. “But it’s not what it’s about, is it?”

“Not in the least,” Pansy said. Draco refilled her glass from the bottle that he’d set on the coffee table, with a smile.

“Do you get it now?” he said.

“Get what?” Pansy said, a little absently.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said. “How exceptional you are, just as is. That’s two of us who think so.”

“Same goes for you,” Harry pointed out.

“I know, but I don’t worry about it anymore,” Draco said, putting a hand on Pansy’s knee. “I don’t think either of us can get what it’s like to… feel so constrained.”

“The old magic’s interesting, I’ll grant,” Harry mused. “But I’m not sure it’s worth the completely insane behavior.”

Draco laughed. “Well, it was worse for her,” he said.

“This is the part that I really don’t get,” Harry said. “My mother was a muggleborn, but no one cares about that, just how far my dad’s line goes back. So why would anyone care about Pansy’s?”

“Because sexist rules don’t follow any logic, and because the Potters were decent people, and because James Potter had Sirius Black at his back ready to curse anyone who said a single cross word,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “It’s much worse to be a pureblood witch without an exceptional pedigree than it is to not be one at all, I think. You have far more choices. And everyone would have spent my whole life telling me that I was lucky to get a decent husband, so I should –“ She gestured with her glass. “Keep him happy. Be quiet and unseen and produce heirs.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Harry said, gesturing for the decanter to refill his glass. “Pansy, I might say it again, but I’m not saying it again tonight, I do not give a fuck about what anyone else thinks about my life, and I love you _as you are_ , so if you tone it down or shut up in an attempt to make me happy, Thaxia will bite you.”

“Thank you,” Draco said, laughing. “It hurts, by the way. Quite a bit.”

Harry cupped her face in his hands. “Let _go_ of all that,” he said, softly. “I know it’s not so easy, but this is our home. Us and Kit and Lethe and Thaxia. So no one sets the rules here but us, and I think Draco and I would really like the rule to be that you do whatever the fuck makes you happy.”

“Really, anything?” Pansy murmured.

“Yes, anything,” Harry said.

“Well,” Pansy said, sliding over into his lap. “I like getting what I want.”

“Oh, do you?” Harry murmured, laughing. “I never would have guessed.”

“You’re very lucky, you know,” Pansy informed him, sliding in close until she was straddling him, and leaned until their noses were nearly touching. “Most people don’t even get _one_ Slytherin, and you have two.”

“Oh, are there benefits?” Harry said, leaning back. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, Potter,” Pansy sighed, pulling her jumper off, then toying with the top button on her blouse. “You really ought to have learned by now.”

“Oh, Pansy,” Harry said, reaching up to undo the next button, the rest undoing themselves too. “You really ought to have learned not to underestimate me.”

She flushed, laughing. “You’re trouble with that wandless thing,” she said.

“Have I mentioned I’m better at it when I’m drunk?” Harry said, holding her gaze and stretching his arms out on the back of the sofa. He gestured with the hand holding his glass, and Pansy’s shirt pushed off her shoulders onto the floor, her bra coming undone so Harry could pull that off too, not lifting a hand, and he grinned, exploring up her spine with his magic without moving.

“That’s hardly playing fair,” Pansy murmured. “I was going to do that for you.”

“I don’t like to play fair,” Harry said, lifting a hand up to cup her face and pulling her down for a warm, open kiss. “Slytherin rules.”

“Well, it’s not as if I’ve got _nothing_ in my arsenal,” Pansy said, sitting up and stretching, leaning back a little with her glass of wine.

“Fair enough,” Harry said, mouth going dry.

“Oh, much better than that,” Pansy said, laughing, and fisted a hand in his hair, pulling him in for a harder, deeper kiss. “Exceeds expectations, at the very least, and I rather think I deserve an outstanding.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to give marks to people you’re fucking,” Harry murmured, biting her lower lip. “Against the rules.”

“I thought you didn’t like rules,” Pansy teased.

“Oh, fine,” Harry said, laughing. “Outstanding in flirtatious remarks and looking truly spectacular topless.”

“I vote about, oh, fifty theoretical points to Slytherin,” Draco murmured.

“Twenty to Gryffindor for playing it straight,” Pansy teased. “You don’t even look the least bit turned on.”

Harry took another swallow of scotch, gesturing at Pansy. “We can’t _all_ be so pale we flush all over when we’re getting warmed up.”

“Oh, shut up,” Pansy said, going pink.

“I’m curious, does that go all the way down?” Harry murmured.

“Yes,” Draco said.

“I was hoping,” Harry said, with a grin, and Pansy went even redder.

“You’re still sober enough to be embarrassed,” Draco said, passing over his drink. “No more wine for you.”

“You put ice in this, I hate ice, it takes up space,” Pansy said, tilting her head back and swallowing the whole thing. “Refill it. And get rid of the damn ice.”

“You sure?” Draco said.

Pansy leaned in, until they were nose to nose. “I’m going to let him fuck me, and I think he’s going to be rather good at it, and my options are being too nervous and embarrassed to enjoy it, or being a little drunk. _Refill_ it. All I’ve had is wine and horrifically iced scotch and you know I’m hardly a lightweight.”

“That’s not strictly true,” Harry said, laughing. “I mean, the too embarrassed to enjoy it part. I can get you wrapped up enough in it that you stop worrying about it.”

“Oh, _can_ you?” Pansy said.

“Yes,” Harry said, looking at her.

“That was a prompt to elaborate,” Pansy said.

“I know,” Harry said, laughing. “And I’m not going to, I’m just going to take you to bed.”

“Are you always this –“ Pansy gestured with Draco’s glass. “I don’t know, obnoxiously sure of yourself?”

Harry laughed. “Not in the slightest,” he said. “But I’m actually not really nervous.” He considered. “I suppose maybe you were right about the whole wrong people thing.”

“Hah,” Pansy said, then bit her lip. “Oh god.”

“What?” Harry said, watching her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you falsely confident about anything in your life,” Pansy said. “That means you mean it about this being good.”

“Yes,” Harry said, laughing. “But not for all the Australian reasons you’re currently running through in your head.” He pulled her down until her face was nearly touching his. “It’s you and me, and I believe I promised to fuck you through the mattress, do you want to tell me how that could possibly be bad?”

“Um,” Pansy said, laughing, but she looked pleased. “You talk a good game, Potter.”

“I _play_ a good game,” Harry said, fondly. “Go get undressed, I’m going to make out with Draco and then we’ll –“ He waved a hand. “I don’t know. Get over there shortly. I’m not into long term planning at the moment.”

Draco laughed, letting Harry pull him into a kiss. “Well, at least Pansy can hold her alcohol,” he murmured.

“Not actually that drunk,” Harry said, with a smile. “A little giddy, maybe. This whole feeling really enthusiastic about new sex partners thing is kind of new for me. I’m liking it.”

“Point,” Draco said. “My wife’s about to fuck another man and I’m liking it, that’s new too.”

“I thought you were good before,” Harry said, a little curious, and Draco made a face.

“If by good you mean utterly destroying every piece of furniture the Room of Requirement provided, I was excellent,” Draco said.

“I said he’d never _said_ anything about it, Potter, not that we didn’t come to the mutual conclusion that it was a terrible idea,” Pansy said, dryly, stretched out on the bed.

Harry snorted. “Well,” he said. “Was it better or worse because she hated it too?”

“You know, I ought to say better,” Draco mused. “But worse, actually. If she’d liked it I’d have at least felt like I was doing the decent thing.”

“We tried a lot of very stupid things,” Pansy admitted, then glanced at him, starting to laugh. “Though I don’t know, Draco, this may take the cake.”

“Hey,” Harry protested, laughing. “I hardly think you get to call me a mistake at this point.”

“New and excellent are not mutually exclusive,” Draco said, firmly, and pulled him in for a warm kiss, then looked him straight in the face.

“I need to be in bed with you, and I want to watch, and I’ll give you both whatever you need from me, but if you pull punches trying to split your attention to make it a proper threesome, I’m going to be livid,” he said, too quietly for Pansy to hear. “Understood?”

“So long as you know you’re not superfluous or any less a part of things and that I love you,” Harry murmured back. “And that Pansy’s only gone first on all of this because I’m awful at multitasking and she’s less…”

“Uptight?” Draco said, laughing.

“Oh, all right,” Harry said, nudging his nose about Draco’s. “I was going to go with, ‘inclined to get hung up on the details if she’s not into it enough yet.’”

“This isn’t a strong suit for me and I’m fully aware of it,” Draco said, and Harry paused, cupping his face.

“I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to tell you both this,” he said. “But _nothing is wrong with you_. If I’d been told stupid shit until I was seventeen and then left to my own devices with a woman I loved and wanted to make happy, I’d probably be in the same boat.”

“He’s right, you know,” Pansy said. “If we’d hated each other, the sex would probably have been spectacular, neither of us would have given a damn what the other person thought.”

Draco snorted. “I’m a little curious,” he said. “What’s the whole sexual education component for Gryffindors?”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know,” Harry said, laughing. “Hermione gave me a lot of books, she kept switching them out over the years and yelling at me about crucial information if I forgot to read any, and then McGonagall caught me holding Atticus before everyone realized that we just didn’t give a fuck about that, so I got this horrific lecture from her and I got sent to the health wing, which turned out to have been where Hermione got most of the books in the first place. Then Arthur gave me and Ron the usual about loving the person you were with and respecting your partner and all that, I think that was like fourth year, and then I don’t think he _told_ Molly he’d done that, so next summer she set Bill on us, which was a bit of a different talk given that he made sex actually sound sort of like fun, and then I think he and Charlie slipped Hermione an entirely different set of books.

“Retrospectively, I think they sort of figured she’d end up with one of us, so we ought to know whatever it was that she did so that no one was traumatized.” He shrugged, laughing a little. “And then I learned a lot of, um, practical shit because we lived with Bill and Fleur for a couple months at the cottage after the war, before Ron and Hermione got a flat, and Fleur is _rubbish_ at silencing charms.” He paused. “Hermione isn’t, thank god, but she also has this whole belief system about sex not being a taboo topic or something, so she and Fleur would _chat_ about things in front of me, and then I’d usually contemplate if you could perform the killing curse on yourself while you were trying to eat lunch or whatever. It was all kind of horrendously embarrassing and awful, really.”

“It sounds sort of weirdly healthy,” Pansy mused. “Also, I’m with Granger, I’m not keeping my mouth shut about my sex life if it’s spectacular.” She stood up, stretching, and went to refill Draco’s glass again, coming to perch on the arm of the couch.

Harry glanced up at her, but kept his eyes on Draco. “Oh, well, I suppose I forgot the part where after I’d been living with them a while Hermione sat me down and yelled at me for having too much casual sex because she’d realized I utterly hated it, and then she gave me _more_ books on the spectrum of human sexuality or whatever.” He shrugged. “I suppose that was – oh, I don’t know, credit where credit is due, finding that all the stuff you’re feeling is on page 93 ten pages from the bit about being gay and two chapters away the bit about just liking tons of sex at least made me feel like I was doing all right.”

“I might borrow that,” Draco said, finally. “If you’ve still got it.”

“I do,” Harry said, leaning in for another kiss. “Also, she’s naked behind you, so if I stop being able to talk about books, don’t get offended.”

Draco laughed. “By all means,” he said.

“I think I’ll just go to Granger,” Pansy mused. “She’ll know what’s good and what’s rubbish. No offense, Harry, but I’m sure there are different books for women.”

“Oh, god,” Draco said, going faintly red.

Harry laughed. “No, really, you want that,” he said. “ _Trust_ me.”

“Yes, like that’s in question,” Draco said, going more red. “We live together and I let you in my greenhouses and –“ He gestured to Pansy.

“And I’m about to fuck your wife?” Harry said, dryly. “Pansy, give him that glass back, he’s getting behind.”

“I really like that I rate on the same level as greenhouse seven,” Pansy teased, leaning to kiss Draco’s neck as she passed over the glass.

“I don’t let anyone in there,” Draco protested. “Which is drawing a horrific analogy that refers to you as my property, so I’m done there.”

“Maybe he is drunk,” Harry said, laughing.

“No, you’ve just never seen him really nervous,” Pansy said, laughing too.

Harry glanced at Draco, who had gone red again. “Regular nervous, sex with talking nervous, sharing Pansy nervous, threesome nervous, guy nervous, check multiple options nervous?”

“ _God_ you’re obnoxious with all this stuff,” Draco said, with a sigh. “If you read all of Granger’s books, are you going to turn into Potter, Pansy?”

“Probably, or at least agree with him asking,” she said, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “But be honest, aside from when we get so distracted from talking were _not having sex_ , hasn’t this made it all… easier? To just lay it out on the table instead of guessing?”

“I suppose,” Draco said.

Pansy got up, sliding into his lap, and Harry laughed softly. “She doesn’t seem to like equivocal answers, Professor Malfoy.”

“No, really,” Pansy said, firmly, leaning until her forehead touched Draco’s. “He just talks about it. All the time. It’s not hard for him. And we’ve spent more time talking about our sex life and all the things around it in the past few days than we _ever_ have, we barely say anything to one another in bed. And I don’t know about you, but I used to worry all the time that we were _never_ going to be able to have decent sex, and now I’m not worried at all. Isn’t that worth something?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, swallowing. “I think it’ll be all right too, actually.”

“So, that’s because Potter asks nine million really stupid questions and keeps saying things that we think are obvious and that we both want to hex him for, but you get into kissing or getting naked or messing with each other, and then maybe you realize that it wasn’t so stupidly obvious after all, but that little voice in the back of your head _has_ to shut up because it’s got nowhere to go because he’s already reassured you about whatever you’re going to start worrying about. You tell me you don’t like knowing where you stand.” She nudged her nose against his. “I know you, you’ve got about four hundred pages of perfectly up-to-date maps of the greenhouses, and you time potions to the second, you’re… not fond of ambiguity.”

“Yes, and I’m not fond of talking about this either,” Draco said, covering her mouth with a hand before she could protest. “I’ve got a hell of a lot of counter-conditioning telling me that this isn’t something I ought to talk about with _anyone_. But I’ve heard your point and I agree with it, which is why I’m _working_ on trying to say things too, all right?” He glanced up at Harry. “I told you something, didn’t I? I’m just not at the same pace, it’s not fair to ask me to be. You know when you get your hands on something knew you want to know everything all at once, and I’m… slower about it.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “Pansy, I guarantee you that there will be a point when both of you are just as comfortable talking and asking questions as I am, but it’s going to take a while, which is why I’m _okay_ doing the heavy lifting right now.” He squeezed Draco’s knee. “And why we’re doing so goddamn _much_ talking in and out of bed, so you both get used to it being there when you need it. But back off Draco, okay? He’s being honest and that’s all either of us can ask.”

Pansy sighed, kissing Draco’s temple. “All right,” she said. “I love you.”

“You’re sitting in my lap without any clothes on and holding alcohol, I _really_ love you,” Draco teased, looking a little more relaxed.

“Doesn’t mean I’m giving you a free pass,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I somehow knew you were going to get back around to that,” Draco said, wryly.

“Persistence is a Gryffindor art,” Harry said, with a grin.

“No, that’s badgering, and it’s Hufflepuffs,” Pansy said, with a straight face, and Draco laughed.

“All right, all right.” He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know, like, wedding night nervous, all right? If my wedding night had involved three people, one of whom was a Gryffindor and a man, and –“ He gestured. “Look, I really never anticipated having sex with someone who had had _a lot more_ sex than me, purebloods don’t really – er, I’m sure people have affairs and that sort of thing, but that still leaves you with a count of about two.”

“You know Pansy’s tabula rasa theory of sex with me?” Harry said, dryly. “It’s not like it can’t apply to both of you.”

“I think I missed that one,” Draco said. “Someone was probably naked. Or kissing.”

Harry laughed. “You _do_ like to watch,” he said, pleased. “Pansy?”

“The secret is, he doesn’t actually care what we do or don’t know,” Pansy said, with a grin. “And I think he might like getting to call the shots and make suggestions, _Professor_ Potter.” She glanced at Harry. “Not to mention that I’m starting to think he _really_ likes –“ She paused, turning pink.

Harry laughed. “You can say it,” he said. “I like the fact that no one else has been there first other than the two of you and two men who I think we’re all pretending don’t exist.” He grinned. “Come on, you two want to kill Ginny, now think about how you’d feel if you’d gotten to me first and got to make me feel things no one else ever had.” He tipped back the glass, finishing it. “Don’t tell me that’s not a Slytherin sentiment.”

“Oh, it is,” Draco said, pausing. “And you’re not –“ He kissed Pansy’s collarbone. “It’s strange that we haven’t managed any of that and you’re going to, you know? I can’t decide if I feel badly about that. Or jealous.”

“I could see how you might,” Harry said. “But don’t borrow worry unless you’re actually feeling it. Because it’s… different with everyone you’re with. I mean, yeah, Tab A, Slot B, but we all have totally different connections and relationships.” He shrugged. “My first time with Pansy isn’t going to be anything like the next time you’re with Pansy, because we’re different people. And you’re not going to try to be me and I’m not going to try to be you.”

Pansy snorted. “It’s not as if he’s not showing me up as well, you know,” she pointed out. “Well – not showing me up, just…” She settled closer to Draco. “I don’t think it’s a competition.”

“It’s rather different,” Draco said. “You’re a woman.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “And we’re still both sucking him off, aren’t we?”

Draco flushed again. “All right, yeah,” he admitted. “You’re not jealous that he can give me something you can’t?”

“A little,” Pansy said. “But that I _couldn’t_. Or can’t _yet_. And it’s not fair comparing us, he’s had Granger stocking his bookshelf and giving private lectures for like fifteen years. Unfair advantage to Gryffindor. So it’s not fair comparing the two of you either, and it’s the same thing.” She ruffled his hair. “And I think you’re hot as hell and we should only be talking about it if we’re discussing things in the moment because this is way too much talking and not enough sex.”

“I think we should encourage Pansy to take private lessons with Granger,” Draco said, with a grin.

“Oh come off it, there are diagrams and you’re practically expected to take notes,” Harry said, standing up and holding out a hand to Pansy. “Dr. Malfoy?”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that,” Pansy said.

“Yes, when you two stop calling me ‘Potter,’” Harry said. “You’re only allowed to call me that in bed if I’m doing an awful job.”

He glanced back at Draco. “Refill that, drink it, get undressed, and come to bed. Whatever order you want.”

“You know, I do think he’s a grown man who can walk across the room, Harry,” Pansy said, reaching to undo Harry’s cardigan, pulling his t-shirt over his head, pausing to run her hands over his chest. “You’re very… tan.”

Harry snorted. “Inferior breeding,” he agreed. “Though I’d like to point out that if the covering spell wears off, you’ve got freckles across your nose.”

“I have _not_ ,” Pansy said, laughing. “We don’t talk about that, Potter.”

“Oh, all right,” Harry agreed. “You want to fix my belt from this morning?”

“If I must,” Pansy said, reaching down to undo his belt buckle as she leaned in for a long kiss. “How naked are you getting?”

“Very naked,” Harry informed her. “You can keep going if you’d like.” He laughed. “And quit trying to keep your hands to yourself, I’m perfectly fine with you exploring.”

Pansy flushed. “I was being _polite_ ,” she said, and Harry leaned in to bite her earlobe as she shoved his jeans and boxers down so he could step closer, out of them. 

“Now there’s really no call for _that_ ,” Harry teased. “You make that face when you’re reading.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Pansy said, laughing. “Or I’ll stop. You can’t be making fun of me all night. I’ll lose all my false bravado and witty charm and then where will I be?”

“Exactly where I want you?” Harry said.

“It’s still not nice,” she said, and Harry kissed her again, murmuring his agreement.

“All right,” he said. “Learning anything interesting?”

“That you’re enjoying yourself,” she said, and Harry shivered as she wrapped a hand around him, biting her lip in concentration again.

“I’d say so,” Draco said, stretching out on the other side of the bed, and grinned. “Now who’s all red.”

“ _Not_ from embarrassment,” Harry replied, dryly, then jumped a little, laughing.

“Okay, if you want to do that, we’ve got to lie down,” he said. “It’s been a few years. And you’re naked and ridiculously hot. And now Draco’s naked and also very fit, so let’s just stick to anything that doesn’t require too much brain function on my part.”

“I think he’s more sensitive,” Pansy said, considering, and turned them around, pushing on Harry’s shoulders so she could get him backwards onto the bed. “And a little thicker than you, want to feel?”

Harry stretched out next to Draco, making room for Pansy to kneel on his other side.

“No pressure,” he said, leaning in for a kiss, and was surprised when Draco nudged him back with a scowl.

“No _coddling_ me, I mean it,” he warned.

Harry put his hands up, then went in to claim Draco’s mouth, keeping the kiss warm and lazy. “I’m hardly going to object to you and Pansy getting all… exploratory,” he said.

“See,” Pansy said, murmuring the fire up higher. “Told you he likes playing teacher.”

“No, he’s just a good one and the skill translates,” Draco said, laughing. “There’s a reason all the seventh years are obsessed.”

“You know, totally not relevant,” Harry said, trying not to jump as Draco slid his hand down next to Pansy’s. “Sticking to relevant.”

“Oh, very relevant, she’s going to want good marks,” Draco said.

“I am,” Pansy agreed. “Do you like the same things? As Draco, I mean?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Harry said. “I mean – uh, yeah, there are some things that work across the board and others that are…” He paused. “You two can’t possibly expect me to keep having a conversation while you’ve _both_ got your hands on my cock.”

“Oh, but I do,” Pansy said, cheerfully. “Unless you’re all talk about that showing us thing.”

“I got all – mentally prepared for one thing and this wasn’t it,” Harry protested, and Draco laughed.

“Fine, _you_ take over lesson planning, I warned you I couldn’t focus if it was both of you at once,” Harry said.

“Oh, all right,” Draco said. “This isn’t exactly advanced levels, I suppose. What d’you want to know, Pansy?”

“All of it?” she hazarded, laughing. “You know me.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, laughing. “He’s thicker than me, I –“ He shook his head, still laughing. “Look, how about I drink that, and you and I mess around some, and then I’ll _probably_ be drunk enough to actually be candid instead of getting flustered.”

“Plan,” Pansy said, kissing Harry’s shoulder. “Back on topic in a minute.”

“Not really off topic,” Harry murmured. It was – sort of nice, watching Pansy and Draco kiss as if they didn’t feel hesitant about it at all, and the fact that he was relaxing instead of getting more wound up over the whole thing was a pleasant surprise, though he realized that he was starting to get impatient.

“Please tell me you’re not falling asleep,” Draco said, turning to watch him with a grin.

“Trying to relax,” Harry corrected. 

“Right,” Draco said, leaning to kiss Pansy’s neck. “I’m kind of fast about this, you’ll never see me half way turned on because that stage lasts for about three seconds. He’s apparently not like that so much, so he’s not all the way hard yet.” He grinned. “Well, he wasn’t.”

“Yeah, sorry, so boring,” Harry said, stretching to get more comfortable. “Naked and snogging is my least favorite way to see you two.”

“Prat,” Pansy said, hitting him on the chest affectionately. “So he’s probably not going to get all the way hard from just – making out or something?”

“Depends on how long we make out,” Harry said, dryly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Are you contributing _any_ useful information to this lesson right now, Potter?”

“Theoretical ten points from me for interrupting,” Harry said, rolling his eyes too. “Sorry.”

“Can I just –“ Pansy said, then made a face. “Ugh, the angle is awful, no wonder we almost never do this.”

“It’s easier from your own perspective, and it’s not like you’re going to be sitting _there_ if you’re giving him a hand job,” Draco said, and Pansy paused, looking a little offended.

“So, hold on,” she said, “I could’ve been _watching_ you do this for ages and I wasn’t?”

“Er, I suppose,” Draco said, then considered. “Probably would’ve made me a lot more interested in wanking.”

“ _Later_ ,” Harry said, firmly. “One of you finish warming me up so I can stop feeling off balance.”

Draco snorted. “God, you’re not demanding in the least,” he said.

“He said warm him up,” Pansy said. “Is that a thing for men too?”

“Depends,” Draco said, glancing at Harry. “It does for women too, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Pansy said. “I’m usually pretty… ready by the time we get around to anything.”

“Me too,” Draco said. He laughed. “But we tend to draw out the snogging because we both actually _like_ that, so I don’t suppose that hurts anything.”

“And I’m nearly always not,” Harry said. “I mean, you know, it takes some messing around with aim and kissing and whatever the hell else you’re doing before you actually start fucking, it’s better if I’m harder for that.”

“So if I want to touch,” Pansy said, drawing her fingers up his shaft. “It’s just like touching you, Draco?”

“I think he’s more sensitive,” Draco said, pausing to look at Harry.

“Okay,” Harry said, quietly, closing his eyes, and wrapped a hand around Draco’s shoulder to pull him in closer. “I’m fine right now, but I’m as prone to overthinking as either one of you, and I’m going to start in on that if we don’t stop talking. And it can be pretty hard to get me back on track, and then I’m going to be in a bloody _awful_ mood, so can we –“ He looked at Draco. “I like sex with _you two_. I do not necessarily love sex in general. So I just… can we please stop fucking around because everyone’s nervous?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Draco said, kissing him. Pansy paused.

“Guy thing or Harry thing?” she said.

“Harry thing,” Draco said, firmly, tugging her in for a fast kiss. “I’ll show you this part, and then it’s you two for a little bit, okay?” He smiled. “I’m going to watch.”

“Are you –“

Draco gently covered her mouth with his hand again. “We’ve talked about it, I’m good, and we’ve got an obligation to make sure _everyone_ here is good, including people who haven’t been asked forty times.” He kissed her forehead. “Because at the moment I’d think he’d sort of be saying no. Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, softly. “I’m getting pretty knotted up.”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps saying that no one’s got anything to be ashamed of and that we’re not fixing things,” Pansy said, leaning over to kiss him. “But I can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell me what is, and I don’t think it’s just less talking.”

Harry took a breath. “I need to focus on one of you,” he admitted. “And connect. Not literally, just… emotionally. I like this, and I honestly do just like messing around, but –“ He laughed, flushing. “Look, I almost never _really_ get focused on the orgasm part of things, but this whole thing has been going on for – well, weeks, sort of, and we haven’t had time or energy, and I _really_ need to come. And, um – that’s not just about having an orgasm for me.” He blushed again. “No clue if that’s something you’ll be able to pick up on or not.”

“Well, you’re an idiot,” Pansy said, affectionately. “Don’t expect me to play nice, I’m not you.” She leaned in for a long kiss. “My god, you need intimacy and not just fucking random strangers?” She laughed. “Harry, I thought that was the _point_.”

“It’s –“ Harry sighed. “It feels like more than just intimacy. I don’t know.”

Draco snorted. “Well, obviously, you’re reining Thaxia in.” He paused when Harry blinked. “Oh. You’re not doing that on purpose, are you?”

“What about Thaxia?” Harry said, looking over at the daemons, who were in front of the fireplace and far too involved with one another to even bother paying attention to them, though Lethe was starting to get more aggressive with Thaxia.

“Harry, she’s their mate,” Draco said. “And I’ve no idea _how_ you’re doing it, but you’re keeping them from connecting however they need to. As far as I know, that sort of thing usually just happens at some point, but Kit’s starting to get really predatory. And I don’t think Thaxia will go ahead if you won’t let her.”

“I’m not trying to stop her,” Harry said, frustrated. “She can do what she likes.”

Harry found himself watching Thaxia, suddenly feeling more stressed, and jumped when Draco made a noise and settled in next to him, stroking his side. “They won’t ever hurt her, Harry. But you haven’t got the dominant daemon with a bunch of carnivores, so yeah, she’s going to get pushed around a little.”

“What d’you mean about Thaxia?” Harry said. Draco kissed his shoulder. “They’re getting really – that’s a lot of biting.”

Pansy made a soft noise, leaning to run her fingers through his hair. “Harry, do you really think we’d let anything happen to her? Hell, that she’d let anything happen to _herself_?”

“No,” Harry admitted, finally. “Something still feels off.”

“It’s supposed to be pretty organic when the daemons are a personality match,” Draco said. “Which is why hardly anyone ever brings it up, it just slides into place. Lethe and Kit are bonded, but it could be stronger, they’re awfully similar. Thaxia’s the theoretical counterweight.”

“I’ve no idea what I’m holding off on,” Harry admitted. “Don’t daemons usually bond at least a little when you sleep with someone? It’s never been any trouble before.”

Draco sighed. “There were never any emotional stakes for you before,” he said. “I’d be willing to bet that particular self defense mechanism has always been there, Thaxia doesn’t let most _daemons_ touch her.”

“Yeah, that’s because she’s –“ Harry started, and Draco made a low noise.

“Stop it,” he said, gently. “You said you needed connection.” He tilted Harry’s up for a slow, warm kiss. “You’re very good at pushing people away, Harry, and staying in your own head. But I don’t think that’s what you want here, because you’ve got to look at how Thaxia’s been acting the last few days.” He met his eyes. “You trust her, Harry. You don’t get to make this call, she does, because she knows you both better than you do. So quit trying to control all of it.”

Harry laughed softly, leaning in when Pansy wrapped her arms around him. “You’re right,” he admitted. “I don’t let people in. They get hurt.”

“Well, Thaxia’s decided otherwise,” Draco said. “And if she thinks it’s time, then it’s time, it means you want it too. And that we’re…” He met Harry’s eyes. “Well suited. Don’t think I can’t handle myself, Harry, and don’t think for a moment that Pansy can’t either. Thaxia trusts that. So you’re going to have to trust that as well.”

“Do you have any idea how I _stop_?” Harry said, quietly.

“Yeah, quit thinking so much,” Draco said, laughing. “Fuck her. Enjoy yourself. Get what you need. Give her what she needs.” He grinned. “Lucky for you, this isn’t advanced level potions, or we’d all be in real trouble.”

“Well, at least there’s that,” Harry said, laughing softly.

“Right,” Draco agreed, gently, nuzzling his temple. “And don’t forget that your magic pulls _in_ , so Pansy’s and mine are probably going to go for that like a shot whenever you drop the shields.” He snorted. “For someone who claims to be terrible at mind magic, you’ve certainly constructed a rather impressive defense system.”

Harry laughed again, shaking his head. “Apparently I can’t ever do anything the easy way,” he said, ruefully.

“Oh, shut up, we don’t like easy, it’s boring,” Pansy said. 

“She’d be done with you in two minutes flat,” Draco agreed, laughing. “I don’t know, Harry, it’ll be different and probably a bit intimidating.” He nudged his shoulder. “Hey, all three of us can be feeling the same thing. It’ll be novel.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, dryly.

Draco kissed his shoulder. “My magic’s going to be in on this even if you two end up totally focused on each other, so if you’re okay, I’m going to start backing off a bit.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said, a little hoarsely. “I love you.”

“You too,” Draco said. “And I’m right here. Both of you.”

“I know,” Pansy said, fondly, and rolled over to stretch out on the bed, gesturing for Harry to roll on top of her. 

“Well, I thought I was going to need more warm up, but apparently not,” he said, dryly.

“Takes two to tango,” Pansy teased, stroking her palms up his back. “Though I’d like to know if you plan on relaxing at any point during this process, because I’m pretty sure I was promised relaxing.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, taking a breath. “This is new.”

“Oh, so it’s my turn to be bossy,” Pansy said, nudging her nose against his. “So it’s not just sex. So what? Neither of us likes just sex. And I _really_ want this with you. Do you? With me?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured. “Yes. For ages.”

“Okay then,” Pansy said, with a grin. “We play like usual, we fool around some, and then you fuck me through the mattress.” She waved a hand. “With bonus emotional attachment or whatever. _Gryffindors_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said, but he was laughing. “You’ve utterly failed to provide rose petals and candles for this whole thing, Dr. Malfoy.”

“I suppose I could summon some,” Pansy mused. “It _would_ make for a better chapter in my eventual memoir.”

“You’ve already got an outline, haven’t you,” Harry said, dryly, and Pansy grinned.

“Someone’s been going through my desk,” she teased. “That’s not nice, you’ll find my notebook with my list of things that I like about you.”

“I’m glad you’ve written that down in case you forget,” Harry said, gravely.

“Yes, well,” Pansy said. “You’re so smart and handsome and you look excellent in green jumpers and you’re a total arse like ninety percent of the time, what’s not to love.”

“You do not sound like a seventeen year old girl,” Harry informed her, laughing.

“Oh, please, I ought to just steal from Lexington, she won’t stop waxing poetic about your potions lectures,” Pansy said. “’Oh, Professor Potter is so _brilliant_ , he’s found this entire new historical background for mint leaves, you’d never _believe_ how interesting it is.’”

“I don’t even think we’ve used mint leaves this term,” Harry said, considering, and Pansy hit him on the back of the head, laughing.

“It was an imitation, you idiot, I think the actual conversation was about Malagasy crowned eagle feathers or something,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“She did ask for like four extra articles on those,” Harry said, and Pansy laughed.

“Well, she fancies you,” she teased. 

“You would absolutely come to my office hours and ask for extra books,” Harry said, solemnly. “And, knowing you, it would be in heels and some sort of shirt I could see down.”

Pansy grinned. “Please, you ought to give me _some_ credit, I’m excellent at wearing button downs that accidentally gap a bit and pencil skirts. Also, I own rather a lot of red lace lingerie, I suppose I could try that on your thoroughly Gryffindor brain.”

Harry paused, and Pansy laughed harder. “Oh, you _like_ that idea, don’t you?” 

“Shut up,” he said. “I should really find the idea of you seducing a professor rather suspect.”

“Oh, well,” Pansy said, waving a hand. “You just wait for term to end, then you’re in the clear.”

“Good to know that you know all the rules,” Harry said, trying not to laugh again. “And that I know all the good hiding spots in the castle.”

“Mm, hiding spots,” Pansy said, considering. “If we’d been seventh years, I’m sure we could have gotten up to plenty of trouble with all your _hiding spots_.”

Harry laughed. “Oh, really,” he said, nudging his nose against hers. “You, with a Gryffindor?”

“Mm,” Pansy said. “All right, I’ll admit, you grew into yourself a bit since the last time I saw you, no one looks particularly good at seventeen.” She ran her fingers down his back, exploring his shoulder muscles before Harry dropped his head against her shoulder, breathing hard. “Though if I’d known your cock was this good, I suspect I’d hardly have cared.”

“I thought you were all prim and proper,” Harry managed, laughing.

“Harry, no teenage girl is prim and proper,” Pansy said. “We just pretend to be to drive you insane, we’re just as randy as you lot are.”

“I’ve noticed,” Harry said, grinning.

“Oh, shut up, you only know because you’re on top of me,” Pansy said, kissing him again. “That’s hardly fair play.”

“Well, make it fair play, then,” Harry suggested. “I’m hardly going to mind if you want to get your hands on me.” He kissed his way down her neck, with a nip to her shoulder. “Or vice versa, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Hmm,” Pansy said, getting a hand between them to grip his cock. “I suspect I do like that sort of thing, but I’ve got a _bit_ of an objection to it. Strictly on principle, you understand.”

“How’s that?” Harry said, catching his breath as she squeezed.

“Well, it’s not as if I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit,” Pansy said. “You know. The aforementioned seventeen year old fancying thing.” She dragged her teeth over his collarbone, then kissed back over the mark. “And I’ve got to admit, Harry, it’s been very _inconvenient_ when you show up and you’re all intent on my lecture and asking these really engaging questions and obviously _not_ thinking about sex.”

“Oh?” Harry said.

“Yes,” Pansy said, dryly. “Because I’ve always wanted to flushed and soaking my knickers and so turned on I’m hoping I’ve got on a thick enough jumper in front of all my students. And the fact that the only thing I can think about is you bending me over my desk tends to wreck my casting form.”

“Oh, dreadfully sorry,” Harry said, laughing, and moved enough so he could cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples until she arched against him. “You know, Pansy, if I ought to cast stronger warming charms on the bed, you really should just tell me.”

“It’s my own fault, really,” Pansy mused. “No thick sweater to save me.”

“God, you’re ridiculously attractive,” Harry said, flushing again, and ducked his head, laughing. “Your goddamned mouth, and all this, and just –“ He smiled. “Well, you.”

“Oh, well, me,” Pansy said, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down for a kiss. “That’s quite the compliment, Harry.”

“It is,” he agreed. “So is offering to show you all my hiding spots and retroactively fuck you in them at seventeen.”

Pansy laughed. “It’s such a shame being adults with our own bed and an entire tower to the three of us,” she agreed.

“Really is,” Harry said, then considered, meeting her eyes. “Little help getting in?”

“Thank god,” Pansy said, laughing, and guided him closer. “You can just –“

Harry pushed forward in one smooth motion, and Pansy laughed. “You can just get in, don’t bother with slow, I was going to say,” she teased, then closed her eyes, arching up into him. “Huh.”

“Huh, what,” Harry said, kissing her. “Also, I figure –“ He pushed an arm between her waist and the bed, pulling her a little closer as he started to thrust slowly. “Arch your back, I can –“

“You feel completely different,” Pansy remarked. “Not – I’m not _comparing_ , just –“

“Comparing?” Draco said, dryly, but with a grin. “I already told you he was thicker. Don’t stop, I’m enjoying the show, though I’m not sure I entirely understand all the sarcastic banter as warm up.”

“Shut up,” Pansy said, flushing, and laughed. “Oh, all right, it’s different, but I like you both.”

“You should not be this coherent, stop trying to get back in the same position,” Harry informed her, stroking his fingers up her spine until Pansy arched her back a little more.

“Like that?” he said.

“Mm, still cataloguing,” Pansy said, and Harry snorted.

“Okay, not like that,” he said. “Lift your damn hips. Up closer into me.”

“But I’m enjoying this part,” Pansy protested, and Harry leaned to bite down on the curve of her shoulder, hard.

“ _Hey_ ,” Pansy said, then paused, taking a slow breath. “Wait, I –“

“There we go,” Harry said, satisfied, and used his hand against the small of her back to keep her at the right angle while he kept thrusting slowly.

“I – that –“ Pansy said, staring at him, and Harry laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m terrible, I know,” he said, adjusting her hips a little more until Pansy actually made a low noise.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry,” Pansy managed, with a low laugh, tipping her head back to close her eyes. “Is it going to go to your head if I ask if you’re casting something?”

“No,” Harry said, breathlessly, laughing. “Just – um, angling in properly. Tell me if it gets too intense.”

“No,” Pansy said, slowly. “It’s just, um –“

“Shut up,” Harry said, fondly, and slid a hand between them to rub her clit.

“I have to yell at you for being fucking brilliant or whatever,” Pansy managed, pushing closer to him and closing her hands against Harry’s shoulders, grabbing hard enough to leave marks. “Slytherin obligation. And keeping it from us for this lo – oh my _god_.”

“You’re teaching me that trick,” Draco murmured, and Harry laughed again.

“Come on,” he murmured, speeding up a little. “I’m utterly incapable of settling down into the whole slow sex thing until you’ve come a few times, I’m a Gryffindor.” He bit down hard on the corner of his lip. “And if you want me deeper – oh, I suppose you could just _make that happen_ on your own, I don’t know why I bother offering nice things.”

“Slytherin,” Pansy said, with a low moan. “Like we ask permission.”

“Still too chatty,” Harry informed her, tilting her hips so he could thrust deeper, and Pansy caught her breath and looked at him, reaching a hand over for Draco.

“I,” she managed.

“Mm,” Harry agreed, kissing her hard.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Pansy said, against his mouth, and came around him, back arching.

“Yeah, more of that, sweetheart,” Harry murmured.

“Really intense,” she managed, with a full body shiver.

“Give me fifteen seconds, breathe through that part,” Harry murmured, kissing up her jaw, and Pansy swore then arched against him again with a barely muffled moan.

“More?” Harry said, and Pansy threw a leg over him, pulling him closer.

“Definitely more,” she said, panting. “Oh my god, _please_ more.”

“More as in keep going or more as in take it up a notch?” Harry murmured.

“I – fuck,” Pansy managed. “Either? Both? Something? Just don’t – fuck, stop, I will outright kill you.”

“Both sounds good,” Harry said, picking up the pace, and Pansy cried out against his mouth.

She got progressively louder until she finally shoved at his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding Draco’s, shaking her head.

“Mm,” Harry agreed, slowing down until he nearly stopped. “Can I stay put?”

“Uh huh,” Pansy said, breathing hard, then managed a completely breathless laugh. “I’m all… shaky and shivery and I think I might actually feel faint. You’d better not have damaged anything permanent, Potter.”

“Well,” Draco said, sounding breathless too. “It’s all right, I think that might have been the best thing I’ve ever seen, so he’ll have killed both of us. And I’m going to need my hand back.”

Harry snorted. “Not even the good part,” he said. “The way I see it, anyway.”

“Right,” Draco said. “So if you _don’t_ keep doing that on a regular basis and you don’t show me how to make that happen, we’re going to have to have words.”

Harry laughed, breathless.

“Oh, fuck,” Pansy said, laughing. “Both of you? I’m going to _die_. Possibly from never getting out of bed, but you never know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry said, burying his face against Pansy’s shoulder so he could let himself come down a little. “Seriously, you’ve finished an entire dissertation, you know the scientific name of every plant in existence, _how_ is it that neither of you read things about this?”

“Oh, shut up or I’m making you move,” Pansy said. “I’ve read books. It doesn’t help you when it’s a _mental_ thing.”

“I think I’m good with the mental thing,” Draco mused. “The part of my brain devoted to sex literally no longer cares about anything but making sure that happens again.”

“Yeah,” Pansy said, laughing, then shifted, adjusting. “Oh –“ She paused. “You’re still just as hard.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, kissing across her shoulder. “It takes more than that to make me come. I’d apologize, but you’d yell.”

“I would,” Pansy said. “But, ah, I thought –“

“The wet spot’s all you,” Harry said, laughing. “Seriously, Pansy, _anatomy_?”

“Oh,” Pansy said, then brightened. “Oh, is _that_ what that feels like? I thought they were still busy debating whether the g-spot existed or something.”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Harry said, dryly.

“I’m voting yes,” she said. “Also, I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of blacking out any more, so –“ She paused, with a smile, reaching to cup his cheek.

“So, I’m going to have to stop flirting?” Harry said, laughing.

“Maybe a bit,” Pansy said, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him again. “Is this a talking thing or a not talking thing?”

Harry laughed, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know, honestly,” he said. “I think it might be a new-with-you-and-Draco thing. Tabula rasa.”

“Mm,” Pansy agreed, nuzzling her nose against his. “Then I suppose I just want to get wrapped up in you, and I don’t particularly care how we do it. Feel it out?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, a little roughly, and Pansy buried a hand in his hair, kissing him again.

“It’s a good thing we found you,” she murmured. “You’re a bit of a mess.”

“Hey, no saying anyone needs fixing,” Harry protested, but he was laughing softly.

“I didn’t say you needed _fixing_ ,” Pansy said, sounding a little offended. “I was going to say, I can’t decide whether no one other than us has been able to see that you haven’t been getting what you need, or whether you’ve just been pushing everyone who might help away.”

“Some of both, probably,” Harry murmured. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Pansy murmured. “I do hope you’ve realized by now this isn’t casual sex, so Granger probably won’t yell at you.”

Harry laughed again. “Oh, she’ll find something,” he said, nuzzling Pansy’s jaw. “And yes, I’d gathered, I just –“ He exhaled, letting himself relax a little more as Pansy explored his spine with her fingertips.

“If it seems too good to be true, it probably is?” Pansy hazarded. “You know, that saying doesn’t applying to Slytherins. We just get what we want.”

“I’m not _really_ a Slytherin,” Harry pointed out, softly.

“I know,” Pansy murmured. “But we love you anyway, so it doesn’t matter. You, though.” She kissed his forehead, and Harry was surprised to find that he didn’t want to flinch away from it. “The one who gets all excited and wakes us up at three in the morning because something’s laid an egg, and who actually _likes_ burnt toast, and whose daemon is our favorite.” She smiled. “Because she actually _is_ the other half of you, people just don’t see.”

“I only sort of like burnt toast, I just don’t want anyone else to have to take it,” Harry admitted, and Pansy tipped her head back and laughed again, low and warm.

“Stupid, self-sacrificing Gryffindor,” she said. “You’re supposed to have outgrown that.”

“Probably not,” Harry said, and Pansy cupped his face to kiss him again.

“Harry,” she said, laughing. “No one has to eat the burnt toast. It will go back to the kitchens.” 

“Is this a metaphor, or?” he said, laughing softly too.

“Yes, you idiot,” she said, affectionately. “You’re with us now. And we love you. And no one has to eat any burnt toast.”

“Unless Pansy’s cooking,” Draco murmured, and Harry smiled as he tucked himself in closer. “I wouldn’t interrupt, but you can see all the magic, it’s sort of interesting.”

“You couldn’t interrupt, you’re in on it,” Harry said, kissing him over Pansy’s shoulder, and he blinked as he saw what Draco meant, that faint green vines had started growing between them, and that Pansy’s magic was a shimmering purple.

“Just come already, Harry,” she said, laughing softly.

“Getting pretty close, actually,” Harry murmured, flushing. “I guess it’s a talking thing after all.”

“Or a sappy Gryffindor sex thing,” Pansy teased, gently. 

“Right place, right people thing,” Draco said, stroking his palm down Harry’s back, and it only took another minute or so before he shuddered and came, eyes fixed on Pansy’s.

“You know,” he murmured, kissing Draco again when he could breathe, finally feeling like everything had come loose inside. “I’ve already turned it into weird magic and sappy sex, I don’t think it has to be house specific. If you both wanted.”

“Oh,” Draco said, looking startled, and Pansy laughed.

“Yes, please, I need comparative data,” she teased, then smiled. “And I want you like this too. It’s nice, actually.”

“Me too,” Harry said, rolling off Pansy and nudging her. “Not tonight, but soon. I think I get a turn watching, though.”

“D’you –“ Draco said, considering, and Pansy paused, and then Harry snorted, swatting drowsily at her shoulder. “Just go climb in his lap. He’ll like it. You’ll like it. I’ll like it. That’s three whole votes.”

“I think that was you voting three times,” Pansy said, but she complied, cupping Draco’s face in her hands as she slid down onto him.

“ _Little_ more familiar,” she teased, nudging her nose against his. “In the best possible way.”

“Different, though,” Draco said, watching her, and wrapped an arm around her waist to draw her closer as Pansy wound her arms around his neck.

“Mm,” Pansy agreed, kissing him again. “There seems to be a Gryffindor in our bed.”

“No clue where he came from,” Draco agreed, nuzzling up her neck, then laughed. “Do you know, I was about to ask if you wanted me to see if I could get you off again without thinking about it?”

“Well, that was stupid,” Pansy said, kissing him again. “The part where you started thinking about it.”

“Rules,” Harry said, poking her side, drowsily.

“Oh, sorry,” Pansy said, laughing. “Make better choices, darling.”

“Yeah, you can chat with him,” Draco murmured, sliding a hand between them. “I’d rather focus on how this feels.”

“Oh, all right,” Pansy agreed, going back to kissing him.

Harry wasn’t entirely surprised that things between them were different than they’d been for him and Pansy, though it still didn’t take long before Pansy was breathing hard against his mouth.

“I’m –“ she murmured.

“Mm,” Draco agreed, burying his face against her neck. He came first, with a low, pleased noise, and did something with his hand between them that made Pansy gasp, arching her back a moment later.

“Well,” Pansy murmured, finally untangling herself from Draco. “Ten from the East German judge, gentlemen.” She headed for Draco’s wardrobe, murmuring a few cleaning charms.

Draco snorted, rolling over to kiss Harry. “You do realize she’s going to be insufferable now,” he murmured.

“Oh, that’s all right, then,” Harry said, with a yawn. “There are two of us.”

Draco snorted. “I’m not giving having _all_ of my sex with just Pansy, you know.”

“Well, if I’m not satisfied, I’ll just borrow more books from Granger,” Pansy said, flopping back into bed. “Harry, can you move, or are we just going to have to arrange around you?”

“Uh uh,” Harry said, yawning again.

“You might want to wait to send that owl until Harry’s had a chance to tell her we’re together,” Draco said, poking his side. “At this rate, it could be a while.”

“I’d noticed,” Pansy said, dryly. “But look, he’s not all tense.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around a pillow and burying his face against it. “’m perfectly here. In bed. With you.”

“Right,” Draco agreed, looking as if he was trying not to laugh.

“Kit, darling?” Pansy murmured, leaning over the side of the bed. “You three?”

“Yes,” Kit said, firmly. “But hold on.”

Lethe went ahead, turning around a few times before she curled up near the foot of the bed, resting her head on Pansy’s thigh. “You should pet me,” she informed her.

“Oh, should I?” Pansy said, laughing, but rubbed her ears obligingly.

Kit appeared a moment later, carrying Thaxia, who was asleep in a ball. He dropped her in Draco’s lap, settling in on Harry’s other side with an enormous yawn. “Under the blankets, please. Both of us.”

Draco pulled them up, making a cave for Kit, who stretched out underneath them against Harry’s back.

“Mm, warm,” Harry said, reaching to stroke Thaxia. “She’s asleep.”

“Yes, because you were _difficult_ ,” Lethe said, yawning. “But it’s all right now. And be glad Kit’s too tired to yell at you.”

“M’sorry,” Harry murmured, and Pansy rubbed Lethe’s muzzle.

“Hush,” she said. “No one needs to do any yelling, it’s settled.”

Draco carefully set Thaxia into the space between his and Pansy’s pillows, letting her roll in her sleep until she could grab one of his hands with her paws.

“She’s fine, just sleeping,” Draco said, before Harry could ask, and kissed his temple. “Which, if your daemon is any indication, you ought to be as well.”

“M’working on it, but m’happy,” Harry said, yawning again.

Pansy laughed. “It’s not going to be gone when you wake up in the morning,” she murmured, leaning over Draco for a goodnight kiss. “To the contrary, actually, we can start all over again.”

“If you can _move_ ,” Draco teased, dryly. “Besides, my turn.”

“Oh, all right,” Pansy said, fondly. “My turn to watch, that’ll be awful.”

Draco snorted. “Eventually, we might even be able to coordinate three people,” he teased. “Harry can stop reassuring everyone that they shouldn’t feel left out.”

“You didn’t, did you?” Pansy said, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“I only got off three times, it was exceptionally awful,” he said.

“ _Honestly_ ,” Pansy said, pinching Lethe’s ear.

“ _Ow_ ,” she said. “Drug him if you’d like and let me sleep, there’s veritaserum in his Quidditch chest.”

“Thanks ever so,” Draco said, nudging her with a foot.

“Well?” Pansy said.

“I was jealous at first,” Draco said, stroking Thaxia’s fur. “But then I realized there really _wasn’t_ a reason for me to be. I’m not going to get any less time with either of you, but it’s not possible to shove everything in the _first_ night, especially not with Harry being all –“ He adjusted Thaxia’s paws on his hand, so she could wrap them around his arm, lifting her carefully so she could touch both of them. “Well. Worried about her.”

Pansy glanced over. “He’s as out as she is, he didn’t even move.”

Draco stroked her anyway, drawing a warm, sleepy sigh out of Lethe. “I don’t know, none of those walls were new,” he said. “They only had each other for a rather long time. Maybe it kept him safe, but what an awful way for a child to live.”

“Yes,” Pansy said, letting Thaxia grab one of her fingers. She sighed in her sleep. “I’m not sorry I stayed out of it, you know. Their side wasn’t wrong, but I’m still not sure the ends justified the means.”

“It’s like all those muggle ethics puzzles you lay out for your students,” Draco said. “Thomas Aquinas and all that.”

Pansy paused, then laughed. “Draco, are you really applying theology to _Harry_?”

He smiled. “I suppose I learned something from that first year when we gave each other all our lectures to make sure there wasn’t anything horrifically wrong,” he said.

“Which one did you mean?” Pansy murmured, still playing with Thaxia’s paw.

“What’s it – the one with the train,” Draco said. “The one where you’ve got more people on the left track than the right one, do you pull the lever to switch tracks.”

“Oh,” Pansy said, considering, then frowned. “The trolley problem? That’s not Aquinas.”

“No, it’s the other half of it,” Draco said. “I can’t remember. It’s the bit about shoving someone in front of the train to stop it and whether it means something different than the first one.” He glanced up at her. “It was years ago, Pansy, and it’s a half formed thought.”

“No, but it’s an interesting one, you’re talking about the doctrine of double effect,” Pansy said. “Even if the outcome is the same, intent matters. So if there’s one person on the right set of train tracks and ten on the left and you pull the lever, you’ll have saved nine lives. But if there are ten people on the train tracks and you’ve got to shove someone in front of the train to stop it, then it could be morally different, even if your outcome is still one person being run over by a train.”

“That's it,” Draco said. “They see it as pulling the lever.” He paused. “I think – after all of it, I started to see it as shoving people in front of the train. And they certainly shoved him. But I don’t know, is there a right answer? To whether there’s a difference?”

“It depends on what school of ethics you’re from,” Pansy said. “I talk about it with the children because it’s important that they understand that you can do very evil things for good reasons, or at least you can think they’re good reasons, but it doesn’t necessarily make them less evil. And, I suppose, that the intent and consequences of the magic you cast matter, because there will always be consequences, even if you don’t realize them. I suppose you could argue that Dumbledore’s actions were defensible because he couldn’t foresee exactly what might happen. Or because Harry wanted to do the things he did.”

“Romeo and Juliet,” Draco said, quirking a smile.

“What?” Pansy said.

“Romeo and Juliet,” Draco said. “Funny, the things you’ll do when your perception of where things stand around you is completely and utterly wrong.”

“So he only wanted to because he was gaslit,” Pansy murmured. “I suppose coercion, even self-applied coercion, does rather change the balance of the equation.”

“I think we can safely say he wasn’t in it for the fame or glory,” Draco said, dryly. “If you’d asked me ten years ago, I know what I’d have said to that.”

“Me too,” Pansy said. “Do you know, that’s changed a lot since I started teaching. Who do I usually do that with, the fifth years?”

“Yeah, if they’re thinking of going on to advanced levels,” he said.

“The room always splits down the middle with one side shouting that you’re still killing someone and the other shouting that whether or not you mean to matters,” she said. “When I started, you put money that it would be Gryffindors versus Slytherins. But it’s not any more, it’s about an even mix.”

“I think our whole thing might prove that we’ve a little more in common than initially suspected,” Draco said, mildly.

“I think _that_ whole thing might prove that the Hat doesn’t feel a need to draw such strong lines, these days,” Pansy said. “Thought it makes you wonder how much it ever did.”

“I suppose the biggest magical source for the castle is the Headmaster or Mistress,” Draco said. “McGonagall’s hardly Dumbledore.”

“No,” Pansy agreed. “You really think it’s going to be me?”

Draco laughed softly. “When the time comes, yes. I do.”

“All right,” Pansy said. “Just promise me that if it ever starts sorting like that again, you’ll fix it.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, softly. “Though I suppose you’ll have to ask someone else about making sacrifices if it ever comes down to it again, because I’m generally of the opinion that we oughtn’t be leaving babies on doorsteps to be neglected and then collecting them ten years later to shove them in front of trains.” He laughed. “I suppose I’d have said I only cared if you were pushing one of our people, but maybe our people is a bigger potential category than I thought. I’d never have put Harry into it, so I hardly trust myself to decide.”

“There are about a thousand variants,” Pansy said. “I believe there’s one version where it’s ten strangers versus your child.”

“And we both know that you and I would never pull the lever, and Harry probably would,” Draco said, quietly. “And we both know you and would shove just about anyone you could think of and not think twice.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Pansy said. “Maybe that’s why us. To say that sometimes you don’t have to pull the lever or throw yourself when there’s no one else around or take the burnt toast. That sometimes bad things happen and it’s not your job to prevent them.”

Draco shook his head with a wry smile, leaning in for a kiss. “Very Slytherin pillow talk,” he said.

“Very _us_ pillow talk,” Pansy corrected, laughing softly. “Though the pillow talk concept is sort of nice.” She turned over her shoulder to look at Harry fondly. “Something tells me he’s not going to be too fond of going in this direction, though.”

Draco snorted. “No. And yes, you do have to get his permission if you decide to go off and write a paper about this, I know that look.”

“Just thinking that maybe it applies to more than just Harry,” Pansy said. “Maybe it applies to all of us, honestly. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s what you learn from wars, that they’re not worth repeating. That someone ought to put an emergency stop on trains and spells to detect people on train tracks and, I don’t know, ward the damn things.”

“Certainly not at that cost,” Draco said, reaching to stroke Harry’s hair. “For either side. Though I’m not really sure Voldemort would have cared very much about wards.”

“The wards are making sure no one buys into what people like Voldemort are selling,” Pansy said, quietly. “He only had as much power as they gave him. And I’m hardly sure if they gave it to him because they didn’t have the courage to fight him, or because they thought he could give them power of their own, but it’s our job to make sure these children grow up knowing that they don’t owe anyone fear and that power is only worth as much as the person wielding it.”

“And that’s why the Hat will pick you,” Draco said, fondly, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I promise not to make a total hash of the Head of House thing. But no promises on Quidditch.”

Pansy laughed. “Trust you to take serious topics and turn them to sports,” she said, fondly.

“Trust _you_ to take sex and turn it into the philosophy of good and evil,” Draco said, dryly.

“Well, it’s sort of pertinent,” Pansy said. “But then again, I suppose it isn’t.”

“No,” Draco said. “It’s done with. We love him as he is, and do what needs doing to teach him that he has a home here if he needs it, and –“ He smiled. “You know. ‘Pietas super omnia.’ Though I suppose we’ll have to redo the crest.”

“Probably,” Pansy said, laughing. “Maybe we can add some sharks.”

“I’d be all right with that,” Draco said, with a grin.

“I suppose a phoenix wouldn’t be that inappropriate,” Pansy mused. “Their magic seems rather attached to him.”

“Oh, all right,” Draco said, with a sigh. “I did rather like the sharks.”

“They’re not particularly symbolic,” Pansy said, laughing. “Besides, phoenixes represent loyalty.”

“Yeah, like you’re aware of how loyal glowing sharks are, you never know,” Draco teased, gently, leaning in to kiss her. “Just have it drawn up, all right?”

“Of course,” Pansy said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco said, then paused. “I suppose we’re just going to have to get used to having something small enough to be squashed in bed with us, aren’t we?”

“Worth the tradeoff,” Pansy said, fondly.

“Very much so,” Draco agreed.

Thaxia yawned, grabbing tighter to Pansy’s hand. “Glad you think so,” she murmured, barely awake. “I’d have to –“

“Bite you, yes, we know,” Pansy said.

“Move,” Thaxia said, sounding amused. “I would have to _move_.” She yawned again. “Night, family.”

“Night, Thaxia,” Pansy said, kissing the top of her head.

“I can still bite for that,” Thaxia murmured. “But I’m too tired. Stop talking so I can go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” Pansy said, with a smile at Draco. “Loyalty to sleeping in above all else?”

“Definitely,” Draco agreed, and pulled the blankets up further, settling in until Thaxia was nestled perfectly between them.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Polaris (The Harry/Draco Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776190) by [setissma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/setissma/pseuds/setissma)




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